THE WHITE DEVIL 



AND 



THE DUCHESS OF 
MALFY 

By JOHN WEBSTER 



EDITED BY 

MARTIN W. SAMPSON 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN 
INDIANA UNIVERSITY 



BOSTON, U S. A., AND LONDON 
D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 

1904 



.S2 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies rteceivea 

DEC 13 ISK)4 

-Copyrife-nt tntry 
Va^ /3 / 9 0*4- 
CUSS ^ XXc. Noj 

COHY B. 



COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY 
D. C. HEATH & CO. 



Printed in United States of America 



pttfact 

Since 1830, when Dyce put forth a complete edi- 
tion of Webster, there has been published no edition of 
the playwright's two masterpieces, in critical text with 
adequate apparatus of introduction and annotation. 
Dyce, indeed, admirable editor as he was, left many 
difficult allusions unexplained, and, in modernizing his 
text, occasionally changed a meaning as well as a 
spelling or a stop. The present edition reverts to the 
original spelling, and seeks to note every variation of 
the slightest consequence occurring in the quartos. 
The Introduction discusses somewhat fully the drama- 
tist's debt to his sources, essays to define the Shakespear- 
ean resemblance, and offers reasons for dating the plays 
within a narrower hmit than has hitherto been accepted. 
In the Notes will be found comment on a number of 
points previously overlooked — some of these appear 
on pp. 190, 194, 201, 205,388, 390, 392, 400 — 
but several allusions still remain obscure. 

I wish to offer my grateful acknowledgements to 
those who have given me assistance in the preparation 
of this volume, Mr. A. W. Pollard, Dr. Richard Gar- 
nett, Mr. P. A. Daniel, Mr. W. W. Greg, Professor 
George P. Baker, my colleague Professor Henry 
Stephenson, and most of all Mr. W. J. Craig. 

M. W. S. 



Uit 

It is not known when Webster was bom, when he 
died, or how he spent his life. Barring a few scant and 
uniiluminating references, all that is known of the man is 
gathered from the biographically impersonal pages of the 
books he published j the only certain dates in his life are 
those on his title-pages, the dates of printing. When his 
work was written, and when his plays were first acted, can, 
in the main, only be inferred from internal evidence. 
With somewhat more assurance one may deduce his 
mental disposition from his writings, but the biographer 
has here no privileges unaccorded to the reader. 

Doubtless he was born in the last quarter of the six- 
teenth century, for he was evidently a new hand at play- 
writing in the first years of the century following; and 
inasmuch as after 1624 nothing is heard of him, there 
appears no evidence against Mr. Sidney Lee's tentative 
dates 1 5 80-1 625. 1 Webster was born free of the Mer- 
chant Tailors' Company; ^ his father may have been 
the John Webster who was admitted to the freedom of the 
same company 1571, or the John Webster who was 
admitted 1576.3 Collier' s identification of the dramatist 
with a John Webster who married Isabell Sutton in 
Shoreditch, 1590,4 may be dismissed: the date is too 
early. Gildon' s statement that Webster was parish clerk 
of St. Andrew's, Holborn,5 cannot be confirmed. The 
available evidence is against the notion. Dyce found in 

I Diet. Nat. Biog. 2 Dedication to Monuments of Honour. 

3 Clode : Memorials of the Guild of Merchant Taylors^ 1875. 

^ Memoirs of the Principal j4ctors^ 1846. S Lives of the Poets^ 1698. 



VIU 



%itt 



the Prerogative OfRce the will of John Webster, cloth- 
worker, proved 6 Oct. 1625: ' nothing more can be said 
than that this date coincides with Webster' s cessation from 
publishing. 

The earliest literary record we have of Webster is of 
his collaborating for Henslowe in 1602 with a number of 
others in writing four plays, Caesar' s Fally Too Harpes 
(perhaps Two Harpies), 2 Lady Jane^ and Christmas Comes 
but Once a Tear. The other members of the group of 
writers were Munday, Drayton, Middleton, Dekker, 
Chettle, Hey wood, and Wentworth Smith: in each play 
at least four of them had a hand. The first, second and 
fourth plays are lost; Lady Jane doubtless survives in 
altered form in The Famous History of Sir Thomas JVyat, 
by Dekker and Webster, printed 1607. In the Dedica- 
tion to The De'viV s Laiv-Case^ Webster speaks of him- 
self as the author of a play called Guise: the play is not 
extant. Henslowe refers in 1601 to a play called The 
Givisse, but Collier's identification of this play with Web- 
ster's, besides being improbable on account of the early 
date, is supported only by Collier's own insertion of 
Webster's name after the Givisse entry in Henslowe' s 
diary! In 1604 Marston's Malcontent received some 
<* additions" at Webster's hands: the punctuation of the 
title-page is ambiguous, but in view of the fact that the 
play was " augmented by Marston,"3 there seems no 
especial reason to think that Webster wrote more than the 
Induction, although he may have done so. In 1 607 were 
printed Westijoard Hoe^ acted in 1604, and Northnvard 
Hoe, acted in 1605, both by Dekker and Webster. The 
respective shares of Dekker and Webster in the composi- 

1 Dyce : The JVorhs of John fTebster. Ed. 1857. p. X. 

2 Mr. Greg reads " too shapes." 

3 The Malcontent. Augmented by Marston. With the Additions played 
by the Kings Maicsties servants. Written by Ihon Webster. 



Ilife ix 

tion are not wholly determinable. There follow now 
Webster's four own plays, "The White De-vil (^1612), The 
Duchess of Malfy (1623), The DcviV s Lanv-Case (1623), 
and Appius and Virginia{\(>K,/\. — all these are dates of pub- 
lication), whose dates of composition are indefinite, resting 
only upon internal evidence. In 1624 the Official Regis- 
ter of Sir Henry Herbert notes the licensing of "A newe 
tragedie called A Late Murther of the Sonn upon the 
Mother^ written by Forde and Webster ".i This play is 
non-extant, and there is no means of knowing whether 
the ascription to Webster is valid or not. The dates of 
the plays in this volume are discussed in the Introduction; 
they precede probably by a few years only The De'viV s 
La^w-Case^ which mentions them in its Dedication. The 
date of Appius and Virginia is a matter of speculation: 
its firm dramatic construction indicates a later date than 
any other Websterian play extant. Three other plays have 
been attributed in part to Webster. The publisher. Kirk- 
man, printed in 1661 The Thracian Wonder and A 
Cure for a Cuckold^ assigning both of them to Webster 
and William Rowley. The former play may be unhesi- 
tatingly set aside; the latter, which contains two practi- 
cally distinct plots, one serious and one comic, has in the 
serious part many touches in Webster's milder manner, 
and the attribution may be correct. Mr. Gosse's sug- 
gestion, carried out in 1885 at a private press, that the 
serious part be printed separately, produces a delicate play 
to which the deftly chosen title of Lo'ue'' s Graduate has 
been given; but Webster's authorship does not become 
thereby more apparent. The third play. The Weakest 
Goeth to the Wall^ is assigned to Webster and Dekker 
only on the authority of the careless Edward Phillips, * 
and may also be set aside. 

I Dyce : Ibid. p. xv. a Theatrum Poetarum, 1675. 



X tlife 

Webster wrote some separate verse of unimportant 
character: commendatory lines to Antony Munday 
(1602); a brief ode, prefixed to Harrison's Arches of 
Triumph (1604), "erected in honour" of James's entry 
into the City; some lines to Hey wood, *'his beloved 
friend," praising the latter' s Apology for Actors (1612) -^ a 
more ambitious funeral elegy of over three hundred verses 
upon Prince Henry, appearing with elegies by Tourneur 
and Heywood, under the style of A Monumental Columne 
(16 1 2); commendatory lines to Cockeram's English Dic- 
tionaire (1623) 5 and finally Monuments of Honour (1624), 
a **Tryumph," prepared by the Merchant Tailors' 
Company when John Gore of that guild became Lord 
Mayor. 

As it will be seen, then, enquiry into the life of John 
Webster resolves itself mainly into a discussion of the 
dates of composition of his writings. 



9Intt;otiwctfo« 



It is perhaps the greatest reward of a conventional 
writer that the praise which comes to him is reasonable : 
for a writer of irregular genius suffers as much from 
the inaccurate praising of devotees as from the inaccu- 
rate blaming of scoffers. Excellent commonplace is 
rightly applauded by common-sense ; wild genius in- 
duces a cult, whose praise, right in the main, is con- 
stantly wrong in detail. The scoffer, sure of his fact, 
urges the error of detail, — never corrected by the 
devotee, who, sure of his truth, believes that it covers 
all possible facts. So Webster, fine of mind and strange 
of soul, never winning the suffrage of plebeians, has 
often been lauded unprecisely and hence irritatingly by 
those whose main contention is beyond cavil. To offer 
the true meed of praise is no easy task ; yet the attempt 
is not ungrateful : Webster is difficult, but he preemi- 
nently repays study. 

The most obvious mark of our playwright's work is 
not, I take it, his most characteristic quality. The 
gruesome imagery, the scenes of blood and horror, with 
which his dramas do indeed abound, by no means con- 
stitute the whole of Webster : that which is still more 
characteristic is the intensity with which he conceives 
and presents a situation, and to emphasize his meaning 



xii antroouction 

utilizes horror where another poet would employ some- 
thing else. To regard Webster's gruesomeness as purely- 
ancillary would be to go too far ; but it is assuredly 
needful to discount the censure of those who see this 
gruesomeness only. That a starthng list of horrors may 
be drawn up by the most casual reader of Webster is 
obvious, but a long enumeration of dreadful things by 
no means proves an uncontrollable bias for them. A per- 
son unfamiliar with Hamlet might be led thus to think 
the play nothing but the blood and thunder of the old 
revenge tragedy, its original. In a novel of current 
manners a mere wound, an illness, may be invested 
with tragic consequence ; in a story of adventure a 
dozen violent deaths may seem but unimportantly 
natural. It is not the presence of a crime, but the use 
made of it, that determines its significance. Thus to 
single out in Webster a sequence of violent deeds un- 
duly draws attention to them : read in context, their 
significance diminishes. Not to the vanishing point, 
however. There is, in all conscience, an over-use of 
the dreadfiil in Webster. But I believe that instead of 
revelling in it, as Cyril Tourneur did, Webster soberly 
chose it as the material in which he could best present 
his deep and sombre views of the significance of death 
and life. His mind dwelt upon the tragedy in life, — 
dwelt sorrowfully, not gloatingly, upon it. He is no 
ghoul, he is not cruel, nor vindictive, nor base; but he 
finds no peace in the contemplation of quiet virtue; he 
is burningly indignant at hateful injustice, he draws his 
traitors and liars and adulterers unscathingly ; he hunts 
victorious vice with a whip of scorpions, he endows 



idntroDuction xiii 

the wronged victims of inexorable fate with the courage 
of innate nobleness. And thereby ample proof comes 
to the illuminating word of Mr. Swinburne, ** There is 
no poet morally nobler than Webster." 

So fertile and subtle a nature as Webster's particu- 
larly tempts to elaborate discussion, and the interesting 
dramatic problems, of which the two plays, here 
presented, are full, invite technical treatment; but space 
can be accorded to the consideration of but a few things. 

If Webster shows far more dislikes than Hkes in his 
portrayal of life, his chief repugnances are for things 
that are not pleasant to a healthy mind. He seems, too, 
to have lived in the penumbra of thwarted hope, in an 
opposition to the free and easy conventionahty of life, 
seeing sin and error where lighter minds saw nothing 
wrong, or, more irritatingly still, saw but minor troubles 
that one might as well put up with and say no more 
about. Even such a purely personal matter as the rate 
of composition touches the springs of resentment in 
him. ^ It is not enough that he prefers to write slowly, 
but he must speak bitterly against those who report 
that he ** was a long time in finishing this tragedy." It 
is a type of mind for which we have many metaphors, 
but the convenient way of disposing of constant ob- 
jectors by merely labelling them ignores the fact that 
such men are of two classes, those who are in the right 
and those who are in the wrong. Whether it be poli- 
tic in Webster to complain of this or that abuse, he 
does not fail to make out his case that the abuse exists. 
Evidently his heart was sore at many of the transgres- 
* See the Preface to TAe PTAite Devil. 



xiv 3ntroDttction 

sions of the world, and his deep satiric wrath found its 
utterance not in hasty denunciation nor in flippant sar- 
casms, but in deliberate, condensed, bitter apothegms, 
and in brief, keen, finished portrayal of the vice he 
scorned. 

If one now names some of the objects of this sava 
indignatio, it is also to show that under the frequent 
rage is constant sanity. One must read more than one 
passage to know what Webster thought of princes: 
evil-minded royalty, because of its power, is thrice evil; 
Antonio's dying cry, ** And let my sonne flie the 
courts of princes," is a truth to the poet because only 
suffering has sprung from Antonio's experience; the 
whole truth is stated elsewhere: — 

'• The lives of princes should like dyals move, 
Whose regular example is so strong, 
They make the times by them go right or wrong." 

JV. D. I, ii, 313. 

It is the abuse of the princely office, not the governing 
power itself, that the poet decries; yet it must be noted 
that his eyes are mostly upon the defects of rank. Very 
frankly, too, and proudly he speaks of rank in dedicat- 
ing The Duchess of Malfy to George Harding, Baron 
Berkeley, — ** I do not altogether lookeup at your title, 
— the ancien'st nobility being but a rellique of time 
past," — a soberer way of putting it than Bosola's 
mocking ** Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the 
world, you shall finde them but bubles of water." 
But the bitterest remarks about rank are those that ap- 
ply not to rank itself but to the undeserved and sudden 
rise into gentility, ** so many earlie mushromes, whose 



3|ntroUuction xv 

best growth sprang from a dunghill.** Webster's sense 
of democracy seems fatalistic: but such speeches as this 
from the disguised Francisco must be taken in con- 
text: — 

" What difference is betweene the duke and I ? no more than 
betweene two brickes, all made of one clay : onely't may bee one 
is plac't on the top of a turret ; the other in the bottom of a well 
by mere chance. If I were plac't as high as the duke, I should 
sticke as fast ; make as fair a shew j and beare out weather 
equally. ' ' 

The author has as strong a contempt for menials as for 
courtiers, as witness his galling portrayal of the servants 
in the second and third acts of The Duchess of Malfy: 
it is not from the lower ranks that he would draw the 
men to put in authority, but from the honest and cap- 
able. For pedantry, he has superlative disgust: we stu- 
dents of the past may still read with profit the artist's 
quick characterization of 

**a fantastical schoUer, like such who studdy to know how many 
knots was in Hercules club, of what colour Achilles beard was, 
or whether Hector were not troubled with the tooth-ach. He 
hath studdied himself halfe bleare-ei'd, to know the true semitry 
of Caesars nose by a shooing-horne ; and this he did to gaine the 
name of a speculative man. ' ' 

Yet Webster himself was scholarly in the simpler sense 
of the word, and set store by true learning. The delays 
and technicalities of the processes of law, the hypo- 
crisies of worldly churchmen, the inadequacies of the 
healing craft, are set forth unsparingly; but law, re- 
ligion, and medicine, in themselves, are not made the 
subjects of abusive attack. Sweeping generalizations 
against women, usually against lewd women, come 



xvi JlntroDuction 

over-frequently, but these are more than balanced by 
the deeply sympathetic portrayal of the Duchess, of 
Isabella, and of Cornelia. In short, Webster observes 
society with the eyes of a strong-feeling hater of shams: 
'he has the wise man's scorn of pretense, the gifted 
man's scorn of the barren commonplace, the poet's 
scorn of expressing himself otherwise than roundly and 
well. It may seem a far cry, but no one who has 
mastered the essential spirit of Webster will hesitate to 
think that much of that spirit passed on to Milton, — 
not to Swift the satirist, but to Milton the lover of 
truth. 

In no Elizabethan dramatist is the gnomic tendency 
more highly developed than in Webster. His slowness 
in writing — a fact openly confessed, if not vaunted — 
bore fruit in his closely packed sentences, full of a 
strange and sometimes bitter wisdom, often fataUstic, 
as was proper to an Elizabethan, but not often com- 
monplace. Webster's aphorisms are not carelessly 
thrown off, — the cheerful byplay of a wit or the easy 
moralizing of a conventional philosopher, — nor are they 
merely ideas broadly suggested by the general situation: 
they are drawn from the very core of the moment and 
are molded by the nature of the persons who thus 

'* Come in with a dried sentence, stuft with sage." 

They are, therefore, for the most part, sombre; yet it 
is not pessimism, it is meditation, which takes this 

*' sober colouring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality." 



JIntroUuctton xvii 

Webster is not often lyrical. The dirge (p. 162), 
which won Lamb' s just admiration, stands almost alone 
in the plays. Nor does Webster much indulge in ** po- 
etical " descriptions or lyric flights. The close-knit 
quality of his style becomes more apparent as one notes 
the absence of superfluous ornament. On the other 
hand, the dialogue abounds in illuminative imagery. Far 
from being merely ornamental, this imagery is the con- 
densed expression of ideas that would run to a far greater 
length under the fluent treatment of a Heywood or a 
Fletcher. Within the limits that the close-packed verse 
permits, Webster is often most melodious. There are 
single lines of haunting movement like 

" To mocke the eager violence of fire," D. M. iii, iii, 51. 

and subtle and noble passages like 

* ' O that it were possible we might 

But hold some two dayes conference with the dead ! " 

D. M. IV, ii, 20. 

*' Whether the spirit of greatnes or of woman 
Raigne most in her, I know not ; but it shewes 
A fearefull madnes : I owe her much of pitty. ' ' 

D. M. I, ii, 208. 

The comic in Webster is a rather bitter element, — 
so far as the plays wholly from his hand are concerned. 
To determine Webster's share in the comic parts of the 
collaborated plays, would be a difficult task, probably 
leading to no material change in one's conclusion re- 
garding the dramatist's lighter vein. Yet lighter vein is 
hardly the proper term: in reading Webster, one never 
laughs, one rarely smiles; the shaft of wit is barbed — 



xviii 31ntrotJuctton 

one feels the grim irony, the mordant sarcasm. And if 
mere fun is usually absent, so too is the verbal play that 
Shakespeare often affects. When one character catches 
up another, it is upon some reality, not upon a quibble. 
Puns and such small deer of humor are generally too 
trivial for the creator of Bosola and Flamineo. Now 
and then comes an excellent jest, but in context it ap- 
pears grim. It is not necessary to dwell upon the ob- 
vious application of this fact. Webster and Milton fell 
short of Shakespeare in this particular, among other 
things, that they took many ridiculous things very seri- 
ously, and could not forget them in the laugh that would 
have been the all-sufficient criticism of triviality. 

A certain intellectual, limited resemblance to Shake- 
speare has often been noted in Webster. The definition 
of this resemblance has not, however, been especially 
explicit or happy. To think of the relationship as one 
of verbal imitation is to miss its distinguishing character. 
Verbal resemblances occur, indeed, which may be for- 
tuitous or intentional. Vittoria's ** I now weepe pon- 
iardes," recalling Hamlet's *< I will speak daggers," is 
an adequate example of the kind. Such things are not 
really frequent : it is not Shakespearean ideas in Shake- 
spearean phrasing, nor yet Shakespearean ideas in Web- 
ster's own phrasing, that we find in the strong dra- 
matic speech of our two plays. The thing itself, easier 
to apprehend than to define, is in Webster's reproduc- 
tion of the essential spirit of a Shakespearean dramatic 
moment. For example, in Julius Casar Portia begs 
the confidence of Brutus, but no matter who the per- 
sonages, the essential dramatic value of the moment lies 



JlntroDuction . xix 

in a woman's offering to a man testimony of constancy 
in many things as a warrant for being trusted in the 
crucial matter. Webster lays fast hold upon the spirit of 
such a moment, reproducing it with ignoble characters, 
as it happens, — Julia and the Cardinal, — and in a 
different emergency, but yet giving the same stage 
picture and the same thrill of suspense as the spectator 
awaits the man's response to the final appeal. Often in 
these plays comes this reflection of the inner aspect of 
the Shakespearean moment. The characters and inci- 
dent may greatly differ from the original, but the mood 
of the original moment remains. A soul's sudden de- 
fiance of fate, the breaking of an over-wrought heart, a 
quick resolve upon decisive action, an acceptance of 
adverse destiny, a spasm of hatred or of fear, — these 
moments, apprehended in their very essence and di- 
vested of all accidental quality, reappear by a sort of 
metempsychosis in the life of Webster's personages 
after having played their part in the life of the person- 
ages of Shakespeare. I am impelled to think that this is 
the result of Webster's presence at the performance of 
his master's plays, and not an outcome of reading; the 
resemblance is so truly dramatic, so Htde literary. The 
meaning of the stage picture was flashed into Webster's 
brain and remained there after the words and the per- 
sonages had passed out of recognition. Illustration of 
this point depends upon the reader's turning to the situa- 
tions adduced and grasping their significance; parallel 
passages do not fully display the matter. Shy lock's 
ominous 

*' If I can catch him once upon the hip " 



x^ 31ntroUuctton \ 

has its echo in Bosola's 

*' I have tJiis cardinall in the forge already ; 
Now I '11 bring him to th' hammer." D. M. v, iv, 86. 

Antonio's quiet acceptance of the overwhelming odds 
against him: — 

** I do oppose 

My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 

To suffer with a quietness of spirit 

The very tyranny and rage of his," 

is the mood of his namesake when he accepts the 
Duchess's (feigned) dismissal: — 

" I am strongely arm'd to brooke my over-throw"; 

D. M. Ill, ii, 194. 

as is that of the Duchess herself when the horrible 
mask of madmen is upon her: — 

" Let them loose when you please. 
For I am chain'd to endure all your tyranny." 

D. M. IV, ii, 59. 

Viola's ** She never told her love " is in the spirit 
of Bosola's description of the Duchess, '* More perfect 
in her teares then in her smiles " ( D. M. iv, i, 8 ) . 
Macbeth' s weakening when the knock comes at the 
gate, and Lady Macbeth' s assumption of the practical 
direction of affairs, find a reflection, albeit rather a 
pallid one, in Antonio's start at Bosola's knock and in 
the Duchess's quick apprehension of what must be 
done (D. M. 111, ii, 154). And again Macbeth 
and Lady Macbeth' s nervous interchange of startled 
questions: ** Did you not speak?" **When?" 
«* Now." *' As I descended ? " ** Ay." has its repe- 



3(lntroOuction xxi 

tition in the hurried dialogue of Antonio and Bo- 
sola when they hear at midnight the mysterious cry 
from the Duchess's lodgings (Z). M. ii, iii, lo). 
Mercutio's quips with JuUet's Nurse, jests embittered 
almost out of recognition, are heard again, never- 
theless, in Bosola's disgusting mockery of the Old Lady 
(D. M. II, i, 29). lago's 

" This is the night 
That either makes me or fordoes me quite " 

shows plainly in Antonio's ** This night, I meane to 
venture all my fortune" (Z). M. v, i, 61), and 
in Flamineo's ** This night He know the utmost of 
my fate" (W. Z). v, iv, 123). Lear's passion over 
the dead Cordelia appears once more ( W. D. v, ii, 
36) in CorneUa's frantic grief over her murdered son 
— in each agony the same vain effort with looking- 
glass and feather to find if life still remains at the 
silenced lips. And finally (^PF. D. v, iv, 73), at the 
** winding of Marcello's corse," the plays of Hamlet, 
Macbeth, and Othello contribute to Cornelia's un- 
balanced sorrow the moments of the shared rosemary 
and rue, of the white hand still stained with innocent 
blood, and of the sad lyric remembered from earlier 
days. These things seem to me to be of undeniable 
Shakespearean origin, yet so changed in passing through 
Webster's mind as to be, after all, Webster's own. 
They are the tribute paid, consciously or unconsciously, 
by the younger poet to the vivid power of the greater 
poet, and they give a truer sense of what Webster 
thought of Shakespeare than do the pleasant words 



xxii 3|ntroliuction 

about the master that Webster addressed to the reader 
of his White Devil. 

The range of Webster's characters is not great, but 
within the limits the characters are cleanly differen- 
tiated. Flamineo and Bosola are generically villains, 
but it is only the share of evil that they have in com- 
mon: for Flamineo is by nature a relentless brute de- 
void of conscience, while Bosola, a sensuaHst in crime, 
has a strain of conscientiousness in him which makes 
his brutality the more keen when it escapes the intel- 
lectual control that has been holding it in check. Fer- 
dinand and the Cardinal, as villains, are superior to 
Bosola and to Flamineo, only in this respect that they 
are the originators of crime instead of the mere instru- 
ments of another's crime: in bloodthirstiness and evil- 
mindedness, they are, in their special ways, at the 
verge of human depravity. Other characters, wholly 
swayed by their passions, of sense or of revenge or of 
power, Brachiano, Lodovico, Francisco, Monticelso, 
hold the stage at times not utterly ignobly, but never 
loftily, moving to the accomplishment of their varying 
purposes. Certain fools, Camillo, Castruchio, Mala- 
teste, ignorant of the ridicule lavishly bestowed upon 
them, let farce touch hands with tragedy, before they 
are swept away in the current of the greater forces. A 
real hero Webster has not succeeded in portraying. It 
is not that he suffers from Sir Walter Scott's trouble 
— the villains turning out to be the true heroes — for 
Webster's men are never of the characterless sort that 
some of Scott's were; but he seems not to have ap- 
prehended the dramatic value of a strong and active 



31ntroDuctton xxiii 

man who follows righteous things. Antonio is sweet- 
tempered, but wholly subordinate to his mistress; 
Delio is Httle more than a shadow; Marcello is only a 
sketch. 

In power and audacity, Webster's women, whether 
good or evil, shine brilliantly; there are no weaklings 
among them. Often they speak with the unashamed 
fluency of Beaumont and Fletcher's women, but quite 
without the prurient suggestiveness of these. It is only 
the moor, Zanche, who descends to the level of in- 
decent sirenry; Julia, in unabashed love with Bosola, 
speaks to him without subterfuge. But in meeting 
death, these two low-minded women are as fearless as 
the strong-souled heroines of the tragedies. The dying 
Julia, at Bosola' s sharp cry, 

" Oh foolish woman, 
Couldst not thou have poyson'd him ? " 
answers, 

" 'Tis weakenesse, 
Too much to thinke what should have bin done. I go, 
know not whither. 



an 



1 «.IIUW HUL WlllLllCr. 

d Zanche' s last word is one of defiant courage: 

" I am proud 
Death cannot alter my complexion, 
For I shall neere looke pale." 

The broken-hearted women, Isabella, the wife, and 
Corneha, the mother, each in a wonderful moment of 
self-control seek to shield and save those who have 
wrought their injuries, telling for their sakes the lie that 
unrewarded affection prompts. Only Cariola, at the 
very end, struggles for hfe, but in her biting and scratch- 



xxiv 3[ntroDuction 

ing there is as much determination as fear. Of the two 
great women, the ducal manner is no stronger in the 
unnamed Duchess of Malfy than in Vittoria Corombona. 
They meet the emergencies of life with the same almost 
royal command of self. In the Duchess there are quali- 
ties of heart and mind as glorious as anything in Shake- 
speare; none of the tragic women of Shakespeare sur- 
passes her in loftiness, and none of the women of the ro- 
mantic comedies surpasses her in innate charm, although 
few are the moments in which her happiness runs free. 
The white devil is radiant with evil : * * a most prodigious 
comet," she flings herself into her course with utter 
abandonment, having found in the Duke of Brachiano 
a companion to whom she can be true while being true 
to her own nature. There is as much passion as calcu- 
lation in her nature, a thing overlooked by those who 
see her only in her arraignment. Here in her trial, she 
meets the true charges with cool denial, interposing 
unanswerable objections to the violent procedure against 
her, and holding her own against her adversaries, until 
there is no way to procure a sentence save by assuming 
her guilt outright.^ When death comes to these beings 
who are so full of the capacities of life, they face it 
with absolute calmness, — neither Bosola nor Lodovico 

^ ** Innocence-resembling boldness" was the unfortunate ex- 
pression that Charles Lamb let fall regarding her attitude in this 
scene, — unfortunate, because every critic since Lamb has quoted 
him, only to object to such a characterization. But that keen- 
sighted critic knew, as his whole comment shows, that Vittoria's 
boldness lay in assuming innocence and defying proof to the con- 
trary. The adjective is not a happy one, but it is wholly uncritical 
to charge Lamb with misunderstanding the spirit of the scene. 



iflntrouuction xxv 

can terrify his victim, and the murderer starts back in 
amaze at the fearlessness of ill-fated humanity. But, 
indeed, those of Webster's personages who come to a 
violent end, — and half of the principal characters are 
killed, — meet, in the main, the final hour w^ith utter 
scorn of death. One suddenly thinks that it is a pity 
that Byron had not read Webster, for here he would 
have found perfectly portrayed that lucid and unyielding 
defiance of fate which he only partly succeeded in trans- 
fusing into his Laras and Conrads and Manfreds. 

Webster has, indeed, the gift of deep insight into 
character. This is nowhere more clearly revealed than 
in the way his personages act in a crucial situation. The 
resulting action is not generic; it is highly specific. For 
instead of being moved as, broadly speaking, any one 
might be moved, these characters are affected individu- 
ally, in accord with their most definite peculiarities. 
Perhaps here is Webster's greatest power: at an impress- 
ive moment to put into a mere sentence something that 
leaves nothing else to be said, and that by its inexorable 
and summary quality lifts the scene to real sublimity. 
The often quoted 

" Cover her face. Mine eyes dazell : she di'd yong." 
does not stand alone. Of equal power is 

*' I am Duchesse of Maliy still ! " 
Vittoria's 

" You shall not kill her first : behould my breast : 
I will be waited on in death ; my servant 
Shall never go before mee. ' ' 



xxvi 31ntroUuction 

and the same woman's dying cry: — 

" My soule, like to a ship in a blacke storme 
Is driven I know not whither." 

One feels that Webster, after conceiving a situation, 
brooded over it, imagining how now this and now that 
person would be stirred by the given circumstances, 
and continuing to brood until every accidental element 
had been discarded, so that the words finally placed in 
the character's mouth were indeed final. If Webster 
rarely produces the effect of spontaneity, he produces 
that far greater thing, the effect of inevitableness. And 
after all, spontaneity is an overestimated virtue. 

The rich gloom of Webster's plays is in large part an 
effect of atmosphere. Neutral incidents are often stated 
in terms of despondency precisely as Shakespeare (to 
speak of a point which seems to have escaped com- 
ment) relates in the second scene of Macbeth a splendid 
victory in unrejoicing terms of horror and bloodshed, 
securing thereby the desired ominous effect. So Web- 
ster's treatment of the Duchess of Malfy's honorable 
marriage is almost entirely in terms that presage the 
terrible catastrophe. The brothers of the Duchess 
express their violent opposition in wantonly gruesome 
language, and they succeed in bringing into the twilight 
of suspicion an incident that for pure-heartedness de- 
serves to be seen in radiant sunlight. And thus one 
reads on, oppressed by a feeling that springs not from 
the incident but from the tone in which the incident is 
told. This over- weight of destiny in the play impels 
one to believe that things are happening inevitably, — 



3|ntroliuccion xxvii 

as if all avenues of escape were cut off, — although 
structurally this is not true. 

Webster's diction shows a complete absorption of 
Elizabethan speech and thought; the poet is steeped in 
the common lore of his time. His legal phraseology 
and his fimereal images have been instanced, in turn, by 
readers to show that he must have had legal training, 
that he must have been the parish clerk of St. Andrews. 
Such reasoning is scant in data. A much more notice- 
able thing has remained unmarked, — the astonishingly 
large number of medical allusions in the plays. This 
warrants no especial inference, however, for the poet 
also makes copious use of sports, of natural history, of 
proverbs. The conclusion that we may rightfully draw 
seems to be this, that Webster's diction shows a habit 
of turning an idea over and over in his thought until it 
was fitted to its appropriate expression, and that such 
rumination was lightened by intuitive flashes of quick 
and inevitable speech. 

Of Webster's plays, there can be no doubt that the 
two printed in this volume are, in the broad sense of 
the term, the greatest poems, the greatest creations. A 
sympathetic and temperate-minded critic of the drama, 
Mr. William Archer, places, indeed, Appius and Vir- 
ginia higher than The Duchess of Malfy, in respect 
of technical excellence and certainty of purpose. But 
in The Duchess of Malfy there are imaginative reaches 
not known to the lesser, compacter play. Whoever 
reads the plays here presented will have, after all, 
Webster at his best. 

Whether The White Devil or The Duchess of 



xxviii 31ntroDuction 

Malfy be the greater play is a question perhaps less 
futile than questions of comparative rank are likely to 
be. It is not altogether a matter of personal opinion, 
but involves dramatic principles. For reasons not 
wholly sentimental The Duchess of Malfy is the better 
liked play in the minds of those who read a drama for 
its literary qualities, rather than for its definitely dra- 
matic qualities. It has a story of genuine pathos, and 
its main character is warmly sympathetic. One can 
heartily crave the accomplishment of the heart's desire 
of the ducal lady and Antonio. Here is no question 
of a usurping upstart, or of a proud woman seeking to 
advance her favorite: the lovers' goal is the unambitious 
peace of happy marriage. On the other hand, the 
story of the white devil is almost wholly repellent. 
Apart from a few brief glimpses of the true-hearted 
Marcello and the distraught Isabella and Cornelia, one 
sees no one who arouses any tenderness of feeling: it 
is all a tissue o^ evil things, brilliantly, dazzlingly evil. 
From such flaunting wickedness one turns not unnatur- 
ally to the warm humanity which all the gloom of the 
other play cannot conceal. But The White Devil hzs 
one thing that The Duchess of Malfy lacks, — the 
presence in the main characters of a power to deal 
with situations strongly and effectively. Brachiano and 
his Duchess, however thwarted, can bring things to 
pass; while Antonio and his Duchess can but grieve at 
the exactions of a fate which they are powerless to re- 
sist. Their passivity takes from the drama that which 
the drama, above all, needs, — characters who are the 
visible embodiment of motive force. The conclusion 



31ntroi)uction xxix 

seems to be that neither play possesses all the virtues, 
but that the strength of The White Devil is dramatic 
strength, the weakness of The Duchess of Malfy dra- 
matic weakness; the saving virtue of The Duchess of 
Malfy being a thing not peculiarly dramatic, and the 
unpleasant air of The White Devil a thing not affect- 
ing the vital movement. But the superiority of the latter 
play is technical, constructive; the former as much ex- 
cels in beauty and human feeling. For my own part, 
after yielding the preeminence to the technique of 
The White Devil, I return to The Duchess of Malfy y 
finding in it more, after all, of the permanent appeal of 
poetry. 

In spite of the work that Webster did in collabora- 
tion with others, especially Dekker, his position in 
Elizabethan drama, as indicated by his best work, is 
rather an isolated one. No school follows him : he 
helps to close an epoch, not to begin one. Drama had 
expressed itself with simple power, then with splendid 
freedom, and then, in various other ways, the impulse 
sought release. Webster's best plays are in the direct 
line of descent from The Spanish Tragedie and Hamlet , 
dealing with murder and revenge and supernatural 
horror. Where Kyd develops a situation in terms of 
vigorous and eifective rant, and where Shakespeare lets 
his dialogue advance in perfect poise of action and 
restraint, Webster goes to an extreme of concentration 
and subtlety, requiring of his hearers more than mere 
Hsteners can give. There could be no more progress 
this way; Webster fixes a term to the drama whose 
power is in the expression of intense moods. But Web- 



XXX 31ntroUuction 

ster must not be regarded as a decadent: if on the one 
hand he reaches the limits of a particular form, on the 
other he is an essential part of the great and sane period 
of Elizabethan tragedy. 

II 

The material for the two plays came to Webster 
from the treasure land of sixteenth century stories, 
Italy. It is by no means certain that Webster made 
use of any documents, written or printed, as the material 
for the plot of The White Devil: and if he did, the 
chances of such documents coming to light seem rather 
remote. In any event, present knowledge indicates in 
Webster's sources a mingling of true and false report 
regarding the famous case of Vittoria Accoramboni, 
such a mingling as might easily appear in the oral ac- 
count of a returned Italian traveller who had heard the 
side of the story prejudicial to the ill-starred heroine. 
The truth in the sources, whatever they were, lies in 
the mass of detailed information; the error shows in the 
general misconception of the situation, and in occasional 
slips of detail, — such as, indeed, seem unlikely to be 
made in the writing of any one, however partisan, who 
felt himself called upon to set down his testimony in 
black and white. Such slips are the confusing of Mar- 
cello with Flamineo, the latter (Flaminio is the real 
name) being the younger and honorable brother; the 
mistake in regard to the name and the papal title as- 
sumed by the Cardinal; the accrediting of Vittoria to 
Venice, whereas she sprang from Umbria; the error 
in calling Peretti Camillo instead of Francesco. These 



3|ntroUuction xxxi 

slips may of course be Webster's and not those of 
Webster's informant; but, to mention but one point, 
there is little reason to think that the poet would de- 
liberately substitute the wrong name, Monticelso, for 
the right one, Montalto, when the latter is so much 
easier to use metrically. On the whole, I conclude that 
Webster gained his material from some one who had 
heard much about the affair, and who, in recounting it, 
fell into minor inaccuracies besides being on the wrong 
side of the argument. The result is, that Webster has 
left to English readers a play which almost irreparably 
blackens the character of Vittoria, and which in all 
likelihood, as well, departs equally far from the truth, 
in presenting Isabella as a faithful wife. 

After all, however, our present interest is not chiefly 
in knowing that Peretti was not a dolt; that Isabella, 
according to the violent code of the times, met a right- 
eous death at her husband's hands; that the Pope was 
a great man, not merely an uncompromising cleric; 
that Vittoria never deserved the brutal name given her 
by the title-page of 1 6 1 2 ; that on the other hand her 
brother was actually a scoundrel, and the Bracciano of 
history was well-nigh as repulsive as the playwright 
makes him. Webster has made a great play out of the 
materials which he found to his hand; and for truth to 
history one must go elsewhere. ^ It is of course a thou- 
sand pities that we have not a great play, such as Web- 
ster might have made it, based upon the true nature of 
the case; for there is true and terrible tragedy in the 

' See especially Gnoli, Stendhal, Symonds, and Countess Cesar- 
esco, cited in Bibliography. 



xxxii idntroDuction 

actual story. The cry of Vittoria's murderers, ** We 
have killed a saint! " is the farthest remove from Lodo- 
vico's proud boast of ** having finisht this most noble 
deede," but it is as full of the sense of the tragic. 
Later artistic eiforts to rehabilitate the character of 
Vittoria have come to nothing; for example, Tieck's 
indignation at Webster's play was righteous enough, 
morally, but Tieck's dreary novel, Vittoria Accorom- 
bonay has failed of its purpose. 

The twenty-sixth novella of Bandello (1554) tells 
how Signor Antonio of Bologna espouses the Duchess 
of Amalfi and how both are murdered. There is, in 
all probability, the basis of actual fact here which Ban- 
dello claimed for all his stories. The historical setting 
of the incident places it, if it occurred, in the decade 
between 1504 and 151 5. Pierre Boaistuau and Fran- 
cois de Belle-Forest published in Paris, 1559, a free 
paraphrase in French of eighteen of Bandello' s tales 
(^Histoires Tragiques'), and Belle-Forest followed up 
the successful venture by printing in 1565 eighteen 
more tragic stories, the first of which was the Malfy 
narrative. In 1566 William Painter offered to EngHsh 
readers a sufficiently close rendering of some of the 
French paraphrases, in The Palace of Pleasure. A 
second ** Tome " (1567) contains the Malfy story 
as the twenty-third. It is in this version that Webster 
pretty certainly found his material. 

Several other versions and references, however, are 
to be noted. The Theatre of Gods ludgments, by Th. 
Beard (London, 1597), tells the story (p. 322) in 
a few lines more than a page in the unpleasantly titled 



31ntroUuction xxxiii 

chapter. Of whoredomes committed vnder the colour of 
Marriage. Simon Goulart, in Histoires Admirables et 
Memorables de Nostre Temps (Paris, 1600), tells of 
the miserable end of the Duchess enamoured of her 
maistre d' hostel, the chapter heading being Mariage 
Clandestin ^ trop inegaly tres malheureux.'^ A trans- 
lation — Admirable and Memorable Histories — of 
Goulart (by error called I. Goulart on the title-page) 
from the hand of Edw. Grimeston appeared in London 
in 1607; the Duchess story beginning p. 364. Both 
Beard and Goulart use the story to point a moral, not 
to attract sympathy. Beard heartily condemns the mar- 
riage without rehgious ceremony; Goulart sees rather the 
unequal ranks of the contracting parties. Dr. Kiesow^ 
is doubtless right in thinking that both Beard and Goulart 
drew from Belle-Forest rather than from Bandello. 
( Grimeston' s translation has escaped Dr. Kiesow's 
notice. ) Dr. Koeppel 3 mentions three sixteenth cen- 
tury English references, all of them mere allusions : in 
The Forrest of Fancy, ^S79* ^ig. Ni; in Whetstone's 
Heptameron, 1582, sig. Qii; and in Greene's Carde 
of Fancie, 1584 (sig. L of 1608 edition; I have not 
seen that of 1584). Despite the remark of Soranso in 
the Heptameron, that ** this Cardinall, for all his habit 
and glose of Justice, is for this Act, so often regestred for 
a Tirant, as I feare mee he will neuer come among y^ 
nuber of Saints," the allusions to the story are surpris- 

* This edition is not in B. M. In the Rouen 1606 edition the 
story begins p. 234. 

^ See Bibliography. The paper referred to is a valuable one ; 
the slips are very few, and the conclusions are, in the main, sound. 

^ ^luellen utid Forscbungen, Ixx, 90. 



xxxiv 31ntrot)uction 

ingly scant, considering that it has precisely those 
romantic elements which so greatly appealed to the 
Elizabethans. It should be added that Geffraie Fenton's 
Certaine Tragic all Discourses ^ 1567, translated from 
Bandello by the roundabout French way of Boaistuau- 
Belle- Forest, does not contain the Malfy story. 

Lope de Vega's three act drama, El Mayor domo de la 
Duquesa de Amalfiy was published in 161 8 (Barce- 
lona), the ninth play in the volume entitled Doze Co- 
medias de Lope de Vega Carpio . . . 0?izena Parte* 
The date of composition, though before 1609, is not 
definitely known, but is doubdess anterior to that of 
Webster's play. There is no indebtedness of either 
playwright to the other, however; the points in com- 
mon are all in Bandello, who was Lope's source. In 
the conduct of the plot, the distribution of interest, the 
creation of characters, and in the handling of the cata- 
strophe, material differences appear in the work of the 
Spanish and the English poet. Lope' s habitual fertility 
in the matter of invention of incident may be briefly 
illustrated from several of the more important situations. 
The Duchess's confession of her love for Antonio is 
made thus: she has refused her noble suitor, Otavio, 
because her heart is given to another; questioned by 
Antonio, she says that her maid, Livia, will hand him 
a slip of paper, bearing upon it the name of the favored 
one; later Antonio reads from the paper his own name. 
The secret marriage is brought about through disguis- 
ings: as a page, the Duchess follows Antonio to his 
own estate; both, as peasants, come into the presence 
of a rustic priest, who does not know their real rank. 



3|ntroUuction xxxv 

and secure, through the feigned serious illness of Antonio, 
the church's sanction of the marriage. The discovery of 
the birth of the second child follows upon a rather com- 
plicated misunderstanding: Livia secretly attempts to 
convey the child to Antonio, so that he may conceal it; 
Urbino, the Duchess's secretary, who is in love with 
Livia, is awaiting her; in the dark she mistakes him for 
Antonio, gives him the child, and disappears; the slip 
of paper, previously mentioned, passing from Livia to 
Antonio, had aroused Urbino's jealousy, and the jeal- 
ous man now leaps to the conclusion that here is the 
child of Livia and Antonio; the Duchess, notified by 
Urbino of the supposed scandal, has no recourse but to 
dismiss Antonio; and as this news comes to the ears of 
Otavio, he, keener than Urbino, guesses the truth. 
Where Webster, then, presents a situation simply and 
develops it broadly by emphasizing the personality of 
his characters. Lope throws the stress on incident and 
reaches his end by skilful devices which crowd the story 
with action. Lope's catastrophe, made possible through 
the feigned reconciliation of the Duchess's treacherous 
brother, Julio, with Antonio, involves the decapitation 
of Antonio and his two children, and the poisoning of 
the Duchess, who lives only long enough to see the 
heads of her dear ones brutally displayed, and to invoke 
the vengeance of heaven on the cruel murderer, — a 
conception materially different from Webster's. The 
superiority of one play to the other may be a matter of 
opinion, but there can be no real doubt that Webster 
has surpassed Lope in intensity of feeling and depth of 
thought. 



xxxvi 31ntroDuction 

A little known sequel to El Mayordomo was printed 
in Brussels in 1624, — La Fenga?iza de la Duquesa de 
Amalfiy by Diego Muxet de Solis. This appeared in 
Muxet' s volume, Comedias humanas y divinas, y rimas 
morales. The revenge of the Duchess, who met her 
death in the last act of Lope's play, is carried out by 
the young Duke, her son by her first marriage. Here, 
of course, there is no point of comparison with Webster. 

Regarding Webster's use of the material adequately 
furnished by Painter, it is too much the fashion to glo- 
rify Webster at Painter's expense, chiefly by pointing 
out the immense moral superiority of Webster's heroine 
over the ** wanton widow" portrayed by the follower 
of Belle-Forest. The lack of artistic power in the 
prose stories is of course obvious, but the Duchess is 
made much less unpleasant than one would gather 
from recent criticism. The truth is that Belle- Forest, 
and therefore Painter, blow both hot and cold, enforc- 
ing a moral wherever possible; sometimes blaming the 
Duchess for incontinence, sometimes praising her for 
her wisdom, sometimes pitying her for her sad fate. In 
this way the authors occasionally find themselves com- 
mitted to both sides of the question at once, a position 
wholly undisturbing to the writers, so long as they are 
upholding the conventional morality of the epoch. 
The same comfortable attitude is to be marked in Beard, 
who chiefly blames the Duchess for not being married in 
church, and then has a fling at the church for being 
responsible for the wicked Cardinal. In short, the atti- 
tude with these writers is that of narrators who feel 
bound to comment on each action, and who have no 



31ntroDuction xxxvii 

unifying notion of the moral purport of their story as a 
whole. It was right for Antonio to be killed, but it 
was a wicked act to kill him: this sufficiently indicates 
the pose. 

Divested of the superfluous moral glossing, the story 
in Painter shows Antonio to be a valiant, accomplished 
gentleman, well-beloved by the people, the best horse- 
man in Italy, a musician, versed in letters, comely and 
of good proportion; who, although independent of 
fortune, accepts the office of Master of the Household 
because of his loyalty to the house of Arragon. The 
Duchess had no ulterior purpose in inviting Antonio 
into her household, but chose him for his superlative 
fitness for the duties involved. Then, growing weary 
of her widowhood, and being wholly unwilling, through 
iUicit pleasure, to " erre or degenerate from the royall 
bloud ' ' of which she sprang, she casts about for a hus- 
band fitting her rank. But none such exists in Italy, 
save those **to olde of age, the rest being dead in 
these later Warres: " and ** to mary a husband that 
yet is but a childe, is folly extreeme. ' ' So, after much 
perturbation of mind, she sends for Antonio, whom she 
has grown to love, and whose love for her she has sur- 
mised, and reveals her heart to him, promising **that 
if you thinke meete, it shalbe none other but your self 
whom I wil haue, and desire to take to husband and 
lawful spouse." In the presence of '* one onely Gen- 
tlewoman," the marriage (''For to loue a man with- 
out mariage, God defend my hearte should euer think' ' ) 
is made. Painter is not clear as to the nature of this 
marriage, but makes no point against it. His sentence. 



xxxviii 31ntrotiuction 

«* And for the present time they passed the same in 
words,'* betrays, however, an ignorance which Web- 
ster corrects: almost certainly, the real idea here is, 
**They passed (solemnized) the same (the marriage) 
in words of present time (^per verba de presentt).'^ This 
incident shows that Webster was not obliged to invent 
a good moral character for his heroine: his invention lies 
in making her a creature who breathes poetry instead 
of prose of a rather priggish sort. One must, however, 
give credit for some flashes of true feeling in the 
original. This sentence from Belle-Forest (it is not in 
Bandello), the cry of the Duchess when she is distressed 
at the constant espial of her brothers, might have a 
worthy place in Webster himself: ** le pense que si 
ie descendroy aux Enfers, encor voudroient ils S9auoir 
si quelque ombre me feroit point amoureuse." ^ But 
the comments of Painter (that is to say, always, Belle- 
Forest) show that his determination to point a moral 
outweighs his wish to adorn a tale; and it is by these 
usually unfair comments that some readers have esti- 
mated an entirely different thing, the admirable raw ma- 
terial, namely, in this story from The Palace of Pleasure, 
Minor changes in incident Webster, of course, makes. 
He lets Bosola counsel the feigned pilgrimage to Lo- 
retto; in Painter, the project is suggested by the ** bolde 
Maiden." The reason for the journey, in Painter, is 
to hide the Duchess's pregnancy; rejoining Antonio 

* See note on i, ii, 183, p. 388. 

* Painter, missing the fine shade of meaning, translates thus: 
** I thinke if I should descend into Hell, they would know, 
** whither («V) any shadowe there were in loue with me." 






idntrotiuction xxxix 

is really a second thought; in Webster, meeting with 
Antonio is the main object. After Loretto, Painter lets 
the unhappy pair, ** chasid from all places," wander 
over Italy in search of a refuge; Webster brings about 
the final parting immediately after the Loretto banish- 
ment. And again. Painter uses the Lombard Bosola 
as the instrument of Antonio's death, only after a 
** NeapoHtane Capitayne " has first accepted the mur- 
derous office and has then withdrawn from it; Webster 
makes Bosola the only one to whom the task is in- 
trusted. 

In plot, then, Webster, uses, in the main, the in- 
cidents he finds in his original, and invents some inci- 
dents of his own, — the episode of the madmen, for 
instance. His real departure from Painter is in his por- 
trayal of characters, who, under the vivifying power 
of genius, gain an immortaHty of sorrow and passion. 

The White Devil was printed in 1 6 1 2 ; but the date 
of composition can be fixed, at present, only through 
the allusions in the play. Most of the writers who 
have placed a date upon this drama, and upon The 
Duchess of Ma/fyy have ignored internal evidence. Mr. 
Fleay, however, notes the reference to the *< sprightly 
Frenchman " at the ** last tilting " (iii, i, 73) which, 
taking place in 1607, would give an early limit, and 
leave "probably 1607-8 " as the date of performance. 
But this is the only evidence submitted. It remains 
then to offer several overlooked allusions and to draw 
the required inference. The reminiscence from Ari- 
osto's satires indicates ^ a date after the publication in 
^ Notes, p. 187. 



xi 31ntroUuction 

1608 of Tofte's translation of the satires. The New 
River allusion ^ implies a time when the project was in 
the public mind, say after Sir Hugh Myddelton's pre- 
sentation of the matter to the Court of Common 
Council in 1608—9. '^^^ silkworm references ^ may 
be associated with Verton's mulberry planting in 1609, 
and the Artillery Yard reference 3 suggests the revival of 
interest in the Honourable Company in 161 o. I have 
noted nothing indicative of a later date than 1610. 
These references, while not conclusive, point, at least, 
to a date later than Mr. Fleay suggests, while certain 
relationships to The Duchess of Malfy, soon to be 
spoken of, imply a closer proximity to that play, in 
matter of time, than has hitherto been suggested. 

The Duchess of Malfy, published in 1623, is, of 
course, earlier than March, 161 8-1 9, when Burbage, 
who played Ferdinand, died: but only Malone, and Mr. 
Fleay, following him, place the play in 1 6 1 2 ; all 
others suggest 1 6 1 6 or 1 6 1 7 without giving reasons, 
save that Mr. Vaughan sees in the opening lines of the 
play a reference to the murder of Concini.4 The 
Ariosto reminiscences again, s and the Galileo allusion,^ 
give us 1609 as the early limit. The passage in Act 
III, Scene V, 12—17, on dreaming of pearls, bears, as 
is pointed out in Notes a?id ^eriesy 20 Feb. 1897, 
a striking resemblance to the dream of Marie de Medici 
before the assassination of her husband, Henry IV, in 
1610. The reference to the Helvetian translation,7 

^ Notes, p, 202. ^ Notes, p. 188. ^ Notes, p. 205. 
* Notes, p. 385. s Notes, pp. 390, 397. ^ Notes, p. 393. 
"^ Notes, p. 398. 



3|ntroDuction xli 

implies some current interest in various versions of the 
Bible: the Douay version, 1609-10, and the King 
James version, 161 1, are in point. And again, four 
similarities betw^een the play and A Monumental Col- 
umne, 161 3 ^ (orange-tree and glass-house allusions are 
in II, ii, 6, 14; iv, ii, 78; Mon. Col. 45, 233) sug- 
gest, without proving, a reasonable nearness to the 
time of writing of the elegy. Similarities between A 
Monumental Columne and The White Devil, save for 
the glass-house reference, do not appear. 

A few stray resemblances like the above may occur 
by accident, but between The White Devil and The 
Duchess of Malfy there are so many parallelisms that 
the theory of a close relationship in time naturally ap- 
pears. These parallelisms are in mood more than in 
expression, and consequently must be read in context, 
or their bearing will not be obvious. The verbal like- 
ness is purely incidental. The following points in 
common may be noted: — 

" Perfumes, the more they are chaf'd, the more they render 

Their pleasing sents . . ." fF. D. i, i, 47. 

" Man, like to cassia, is prov'd best, being bruiz'd." 

D. M. HI, V, 73. 

*' Which like the fier at the glasse house hath not gone out this 

seaven yeares." W. D. i, ii, 154. 

*' Hell is a meere glasse-house . . . and the fire never goes out." 

D. M. IV, ii, 78. 

" That I may beare my beard out of the levell 

Of my lords stirop." TF. D. i, ii, 338. 

"... Could have wish'd 
His durty stirrop rivited through their noses . . ." 

D. M. Ill, ii, 233. 
* Notes, pp. 387, 388. 



xlii 31ntrol>uction 

"... 'Sdeath, I shall not shortly 
Rackit away five hundreth crownes at tenis . . .'* 

W. D. 11, i, 1 80. 
** . . . He's a brave fellow, 
Will play his five thousand crownes at tennis . . . ' * 

D. M. I, i, 172. 

" I would whip some with scorpions." ff'. D. 11, i, 243. 

I'll finde scorpions to string my whips . . ." D. M. 11, v, 78. 

*' Trew, but the cardinals too bitter," TF. D. in, ii, 107. 

" Yet the cardinall 
Beares himselfe much too cruell." D. M. ni, iv, 25. 

" Go, go brag 
How many ladies you have undone like mee." 

fF. D. IV, iii, 46. 
'* Goe, go brag 
You have left me heartlesse ..." D. M. i, ii, 155. 

** Your dog or hawke should be rewarded better 

Then I have bin." JV. D. iv, iii, 118. 

** There are rewards for hawkes, and dogges . . . but 

for a souldier . „ ." D. M. i, i, 65. 

"Glories, like glow-wormes, a farre off shine bright," 
But lookt to neare, have neither heat nor light. ' ' 

^. i). v, i,43. 
Verbatim in D. M. iv, ii, 150. 

*' 'Tis a ridiculous thing for a man to bee his own chronicle." 

fV. D. V, i, 102. 
"You 
Are your owne chronicle too much ..." D. M. in, i, 86. 

" Are you cholericke ? 
I'le purg't with rubarbe." W. D. v, i, 222. 

" Rubarbe, oh, for rubarbe 
To purge this choller! " D. M. 11, v, 12. 



JlniroDuction xliii 

" 'Twere fit you'd thinke on what hath former bin j 
I have heard griefe nam'd the eldest child of sinne." 

W. D. V, iv, 26. 

" I suffer now for what hath former bin : 
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin." D. M. v, v, 6a. 

*' Mee thinkes feare should dissolve thee into ayre." 

fV. D. V, vi, 223. 
*' Yet, me thinkes, 
The manner of your death should much afflict you, 
This cord should terrifie you." 

D. M. IV, ii, 218. 

These passages, which by no means exhaust the 
similarities, — there are similar methods of expression, 
drafts upon the same sources, especially Ariosto, simi- 
lar points of view, — tend to show that the particular 
mood of composition passed over from The White 
Devil to The Duchesss of Malfy at no great interval of 
time. In other words, these two tragedies have a dis- 
tinctive manner among Webster's plays, and hence 
must be the product of the same intellectual period. I 
am aware that I am dealing with elusive data here, but 
repeated readings of the plays strengthen the impression 
just indicated. 

Whether or not The White Devil preceded The 
Duchess of Malfy is a question which, I think, has 
never been raised, the priority of the first-named play 
by from five years to a decade being always assumed. 
Yet the assumption, on the part of those who assert the 
longer period, rests on nothing whatever; and Malone 
and Mr. Fleay, who make use of the only available 
evidence, use it only to date the performance of The 
Duchess of Malfy, and do not try to show that its 



xliv 31ntrolittction 

composition, too, followed that of the other play. The 
fact is that it is only a presumption (a strong one, how- 
ever) that The White Devil has the priority. This 
play, as we see from its preface, was not received in a 
manner satisfactory to Webster, who would naturally 
wish then to offer it to the fairer judgment of readers 
when a propitious moment came. The successful 
presentation (inferable from the tone of the dedication) 
of The Duchess of Maify would give precisely the 
opportunity. To state it differently, the fairly good 
reason for regardmg circa 1 6 1 2 as the date of the 
performance of The Duchess of Mafy — because The 
White Devil was printed then — carries with it the 
reason for thinking The Duchess of Malfy the later 
play. 

Gathering up the evidence, we find these to be our 
certainties: The White Devil was written between 
1607 and 1 61 2; The Duchess of Malfy between 1609 
and 161 8-1 9; and there is nothing that requires for 
the former a date after 1610, or for the latter a date 
after 161 2. The presumption seems strong that the 
two plays are near together in point of time, that The 
Duchess of Malfy is the later play, that it is not far in 
time from A Monumental Columne ( 1 6 1 3 ) . I infer, 
accordingly, that The White Devil was finished in 
1 6 1 o, and The Duchess of Malfy in 1 6 1 1 . 

Martin W. Sampson. 



C^e WT^itt J^ebil 



THE TEXT 

The following text is that of the British Museum copy of the 
first* quarto, i6i2 (A), collated with the quartos of 1631 (B), 
1665 (C), 1672 (D), and with all succeeding editions. ABCD 
are referred to collectively as Qq. Punctuation and capitalization 
have been modernized, but all other departures from A have been 
bracketed, save that meaningless misprints like btJt for hut, vnd for 
and^ inseucibly for insencihly, my-night cap for my night-cap, have 
been silently corrected. When the punctuation here used changes in 
the slightest degree the sense of A, the original punctuation is given 
in a footnote. Bracketed corrections are to be credited to the edi- 
tion following the one in which the error last occurs : a bracketed 
addition without footnote means that the part within brackets is sup- 
plied by B ; if the old reading is specified as being in AB or ABC, 
then the correction is supplied from C or D, respectively : emenda- 
tions not supplied from Qq are credited to the editor proposing them. 
Variants from every edition after A are recorded if they affect the 
meaning, but the incessant variation in spelling that appears in BCD 
is passed over as lacking significance. Stage directions unbracketed 
or in parenthesis are from A ; all others are bracketed, and are 
credited when not obvious. Line rearrangements are always noted, 
and are credited unless obvious. The present division of acts and 
scenes is the editor's, and usually agrees with Mr, Greg's division. 
The footnotes record the act and scene division of all the editions. 



THE 

WHITE DIVEL, 

OR, 

The Tragedy of Taulo (jiordam 
Vrfni^ Duke of ^rachiano. 

With 

The Life and Death of Victoria 
Corombona the famous 

Venetian Curtizan. 

K^Siedby the ^eetnsMaiefiies Semants,, 
Written by I o h w W e b s t e r. 

[Non itfiriora fecntut . 



LON'DON, 

V^vX^h^N.OScfrThomat ty^cherymdzn to be fold 

athisShop in Popes headPallace, ncerethe 

Royall Exchange, 1 6t %, 



SOURCES 

The story of Vittoria Accoramboni, murdered in 1585, is his- 
torical, but no printed original used by Webster has been found. 
Some variations in the play may be due to dramatic exigencies, but 
certain errors in detail [cf. Introduction) indicate that the drama- 
tist had not access to first-hand information. The wealth of actual 
material in Webster's possession, however, is easily explained by the 
fact that the case was a celebrated one, arousing much partisan 
feeling, and returned travellers could not have failed to tell about it. 

Two contemporary accounts are known: a Brescia tract of 1586, 
// miserabile e compassione'vole caso della morte deW illustrissima 
Signora Fittoria Accoramboni, and Cesare Campana's brief notice 
of the story in his Historic del Mondo . . . da/i' anno lj8o fno al 
IS9^ (Venice, 1596). The latter (occupying but a page or two) 
is too brief to have served as original ; and the former indicates in 
its title a point of view not Webster's. Brendola's Sonetto^ et 
Can-zone, fatti nella morte deW illustriss. Sign. Vittoria Corambona 
( Brescia, 1586) contains nothing that Webster used. For later ver- 
sions of the story, cf. Bibliography. 



TO THE READER 

In publishing this tragedy, I do but challenge to my 
selfe that liberty which other men have tane before mee. 
Not that I affect praise by it, for nos hac nonjtmus esse 
nihil J onely, since it was acted in so dull a time of win- 
ter, presented in so open and blacke a theater, that it 5 
wanted (that which is the onely grace and setting out of 
a tragedy) a full and understanding auditory 5 and that 
since that time I have noted, most of the people that 
come to that play-house resemble those ignorant asses 
who, visiting stationers shoppes, their use is not to in- 10 
quire for good bookes, but new bookes — I present it to 
the generall veiw with this confidence: 

Nee rboncos metues maligniorunty 
Nee scombri-s tunicas dabis molestas. 

If it be objected this is no true drammaticke poem, 15 
I shall easily confesse it ; non potes in nugas dicere plura 
meaSy ipse ego quam dixi. Willingly, and not ignorantly, 
in this kind have I faulted : for should a man present to 
such an auditory the most sententious tragedy that ever 
was written, observing all the critticall lawes, as heighth 20 
of stile, and gravety of person, inrich it with the senten- 
tious Chorus y and as it were life' n death in the passionate 
and waighty Nuntius ; yet after all this divine rapture, 

4 so dull . . . presented in. Omitted in BCD. 

5 blacke. Steevens queries, blank j Malone, bleak. 
22 life'n. CD, enliven; Dyce, liven; Hazlitt, lifen. 



4 ®o t^e Hrauer . 

O dura messorum iliay the breath that comes from the un- 
capable muhitude, is able to poison it ; and ere it be 25; 
acted, let the author resolve to fix to every sccene, this of 1 
Horace^ I 

— H<£C hodie porcis comedenda relinques. 

To those who report I was a long time in finishing 
this tragedy, I confesse I do not write with a goose- 30< 
quill, winged with two feathers, and if they will needes 
make it my faulty I must answere them with that of j, 
Eurypides to Alcestides^ a tragicke writer. Alcestides ob- 
jecting that Eurypides had onely in three dales composed 
three verses, whereas himselfe had written three hun- 35 
dreth, — Thou telst truth (quoth he), but heres the dif- 
ference : thine shall onely bee read for three dales, 
whereas mine shall continue three ages. 

Detraction is the sworne friend to ignorance : for mine 
owne part I have ever truly cherisht my good opinion of 40 
other mens worthy labours; especially of that full and 
haightned stile of Maister Chapman^ the labored and 
understanding workes of Maister Johnson^ the no lesse 
worthy composures of the both worthily excellent Maister 
Beamonty & Maister Fletcher^ and lastly (without wrong 
last to be named) the right happy and copious industry 
of M. Shakespeare, M. Decker , Sc M. Heyivood; wish- 
ing what I write may be read by their light ; protesting 
that, in the strength of mine owne judgement, I know 
them so worthy, that though I rest silent in my owne 5° 
worke, yet to most of theirs I dare (without flattery) fix 
that oiMartiall: 

— non norunt hac monumenta mori. 

43 yohnson. B, lonson. 
45 Beamont. So the Qq. 



3|n ^pmtem autljori^ 5 

[in mentem authoris 

Scire velis quid sit mulier f quo percitet oestro ? 
En tihif si sapias^ cum saUy mille sales. 

J. Wilson.] 

In Mentem^ etc. These verses appear after Dramatis Personae in 
C j as here in D 5 not in AB ; signed in C : J. W. 



[DRAMATIS PERSONS 



MoNTiCBLSO, a Cardinal, afterwards Pope Paul the Fourth. 
Francisco de Medicis, Duke of Florence : in the fifth act disguis'd for 

a Moor, under the name of Mulinassar. 
Brachiano, otherwise Paulo Giordano Ursini, Duke of Brachiano, 

Husband to Isabella, and in love with Vittoria. 
Giovanni, his Son by Isabella. 
Count Lodovico, an Italian Count, but decay'd. 

Ga-paro ' I ^^^ Friends, and Dependants of the Duke of Florence. 

Camillo, Husband to Vittoria, and Nephew to Montxcelso. 

Marcello, an Attendant of the Duke of Florence, and Brother to Vit- 
toria. 

Flamineo, his Brother, Secretary to Brachiano. 

HoRTENSio, one of Brachiano's Officers. 

English Ambassador. 

Savoyan Ambassador. 

Arragon, a Cardinal. 

Julio, a Doctor. 

Christophero, his Assistant. 

Jaques, a Moor, Servant to Giovanni, 

Conjurer, Lawyer, Armorer, Page, Courtier, a Young Lord, Ambassa- 
dors, Courtiers, Physicians, Officers, Attendants, &c. 

Isabella, Sister to Francisco de Medicis, and Wife to Brachiano. 
Vittoria Corombona, a Venetian Lady, first marry'd to Camillo, 

afterwards to Brachiano. 
Cornelia, Mother to Vittoria, Flamineo and Marcello. 
Zanche, a Moor, Servant to Vittoria. 
Matron of the House of Convertites. 

THE SCENE, Italy, 1 581-1585.] 

Dramatis persona not in AB. CD contain a list of ' The Persons,' 
which omits a few minor characters and the date. The wording only of 
CD is here followed. 

Monticelso^ Paul the Fourth. Webster's errors for Montalto and Sixtus V. 
Francisco . . disguis'd. Francisco's disguise is by CD assumed in Act iv. 
Ven*tian Ladj. Vittoria was not Venetian. 



Ci^e Cragetit of paulo 

oSiortiano ^r^ini, 2Dufte of 2&racl)iano, 
anti Bittoria Coromfiona 



[Act I, Scene i.] 
\_Rome. A Street. ~\ 
Enter Count LodovicOy Antonelli and Gasparo, 

Lodovico. Banisht ? 

Antonelli. It greev'd me much to heare the 
sentence. 

Lod. Ha, ha ! O Democritus, thy gods 
That governe the whole world, — courtly reward 
And punishment ! Fortun's a right whore : 
If she give ought, she deales it in smal percels, 
That she may take away all at one swope. 
This tis to have great enemies, — God quite 

them ! 
Your woolfe no longer seemes to be a woolfe 

Act I. AB are not divided into acts or scenes ; C is partly di- 
vided into acts 5 D is divided into acts and scenes. 

3-4 Printed as prose in AB, owing to shortening of line-space 
by large initial in Banisht. 7 quite. BCD, quit. 



8 ®]^e mUtt H>et)il [Act I. 

Then when shees hungry. 

Gasparo. You terme those enemies 

Are men of princely ranke. 

Lod. Oh I pray for them. 

The violent thunder is adored by those 
Are pasht in peeces by it. 

Ant. Come, my lord, 

You are justly dom'd ; looke but a little backe 
Into your former life : you have in three yeares 
Ruin'd the noblest earldome. 

Gasp. Your followers 

Have swallowed you like mummia, and being 

sicke 
With such unnaturall and horrid phisicke. 
Vomit you up ith kennell. 

Jnt. All the damnable degrees 

Of drinkings have you staggerd through ; one 

cittizen 
Is lord of two faire manors cald you master. 
Only for caviare. 

Gasp. Those noblemen 

Which were invited to your prodigall feastes, 
Wherin the phaenix scarce could scape your 

throtes, 
Laugh at your misery, as fore-deeminge you 



10 ranke. B, ranke ? iz pasht. CD, dasht. 

13 dorn d. B, doom'd. 

19 have you staggerd. A, have you, you staggerd. 



i 



Scene I] XE^^t WXi^ltt WMl 9 

An idle meteor, which, drawne forth the earth, 25 
Would bee soone lost ith aire. 

Jnt. Jeast upon you. 

And say you were begotten in an earthquake, 
You have ruinM such faire lordships. 

Lod. Very good. 

This well goes with two buckets : I must tend 
The powring out of eather. 

Gasp. Worse then these ; 30 

You have acted certaine murders here in Rome, 
Bloody and full of horror. 

Lod. Las, they were flea-bytinges. 

Why tooke they not my head then ? 

Gasp. O my lord. 

The law doth somtimes mediate, thinkes it good 
Not ever to steepe violent sinnes in blood. 35 

This gentle pennance may both end your crimes. 
And in the example better these bad times. 

Lod. So ; but I wonder then some great men 
scape 
This banishment : ther's Paulo Giordano Orsini, 
The Duke of Brachiano, now lives in Rome, 40 
And by close pandarisme seekes to prostitute 
The honour of Vittoria Corombona, — 
Vittoria, she that might have got my pardon 
For one kisse to the duke. 

Jnt, Have a full man within you. 

39 Orsini. B, Ursini. 



10 ®]^e OTI^itr laDeWl [acti. 

Wee see that trees beare no such pleasant fruite 4l| 
There where they grew first, as where the[y] 

are new set. 
Perfumes, the more they are chaf'd, the more 

they render 
Their pleasing sents ; and so affliction 
Expresseth vertue fully, whether trew. 
Or ells adulterate. 

Lod. Leave your painted comforts : 5 

He make Italian cut-works in their guts, 
If ever I returne. 

Gasp. O sir ! 

Lod. I am patient. 

I have seene some ready to be executed 
Give pleasant lookes, and money, and growne 
familiar [them. 

With the knave hangman : so do I, I thanke 5 
And would account them nobly mercifull. 
Would they dispatch me quicklie. 

Jnt. Fare you well : 

Wee shall find time, I doubt not, to repeale 
Your banishment. 

Lod. I am ever bound to you : 

45 such. Dyce notes that some copies of A have siveet for 
such. Brit. Museum A has such. 54 groivne. Query: growe. 

59 Enter Senate (i. e. Sennet) follows this line in 24- Dyce 
placed the direction at beginning of next scene. The text contains 
several of these premature directions, and thus would seem to have 
been set up from a prompt copy. 



Scene II] XE^t WiUtt SDetJll 1 1 

This is the worlds almes ; pray make use of it. 60 
Great men sell sheep, thus to be cut in peeces. 
When first they have shorne them bare and 
sold their fleeces. Exeunt, 

[Scene ii.] 

\_R07ne. A Room in Camillo' s House. "^ 

\Sennet.'\ Enter Brachiano, Camillo, Flamineo, 
Fit tor ia Corombona, [and Attendants, '^ 

Brachiano, Your best of rest ! 

Vittoria. Unto my lord the duke, 

The best of wellcome ! More lights, — attend 

the duke. [Exeunt Camillo and Vittoria.'\ 

Brach. Flamineo. 

Flamineo, My lord. 

Brach. Quite lost, Flamineo ! 

Flam. Pursew your noble wishes, I am prompt 
As lightning to your service, O my lord ! 5 

The faire Vittoria, my happy sister. 
Shall give you present audience. Gentlemen, 

Whisper. 
Let the caroach go on ; and tis his pleasure 
You put out all your torches and depart. 

[Exeunt Attendants."^ 

Brach. Are wee so happy ? 

Flam. Can't be otherwise ? 10 

CamiUo'i house, Camillo's Garden, Symonds. 



12 Wl^t M^iU SDetjil [Act I. 

Observed you not to night, my honor'd lord, 
Which way so ere you went, shee threw her 

eyes ? 
I have dealt already with her chamber-maid, 
Zanche the More, and she is wondrous proud 
To be the agent for so high a spirit. 

Brack. Wee are happie above thought, be- 
cause 'bove merrit. 

Flam. 'Bove merrit ! wee may now talke 
freely : 'bove merrit ! what ist you doubt ? her 
coynesse ? thats but the superficies of lust most 
women have ; yet why should ladyes blush to 
heare that nam'd, which they do not feare to 
handle ? O they are polliticke ; they know our 
desire is increased by the difficultie of injoying ; 
where a satiety is a blunt, weary, and drowsie 
passion. If the buttery hatch at court stood 
continually open, their would be nothing so 
passionat crouding, nor hot suit after the bever- 
age. 

Brack. O but her jealous husband ! 

Flam. Hang him ! a guilder that hath his 
braynes perisht with quicke-silver is not more 
could in the liver. The great barriers moulted 
not more feathers then he hath shed haires, by 
the confession of his doctor. An Irish gam- 
ster that will play himselfe naked, and then 

24 tuhere a. Dyce, whereas. 



Scene II. ] XE^^t WiUtt SDebll 1 3 

wage all downeward, at hazard, is not more ven- 
terous. So un-able to please a woman, that like 
a Dutch doublet, all his backe is shrunke into 
his breeches. 

Shrowd you within this closet, good my lord : 4° 
Some tricke now must be thought on to devide 
My brother in law from his faire bed-fellow. 

Brack. O should she faile to come ! 

Flam. I must not have your lordship thus 
unwisely amorous. I my selfe have loved a lady 45 
and peursued her with a great deale of under-age 
protestation, whom some 3. or 4. gallants that 
have enjoyed would with all their harts have bin 
glad to have bin rid of. Tis just like a summer 
bird-cage in a garden ; the birds that are with- 5° 
out despaire to get in, and the birds that are 
within despaire and are in a consumption for 
feare they shall never get out. Away, away, my 
lord. \_Exit Brachiano.~\ 

Enter Camillo. 
See, here he comes. This fellow by his apparell 55 
Some men would judge a pollititian ; 
But call his wit in question, you shall find it 
Merely an asse in's foot cloath. How now, 

brother ? 
What, travailing to bed to your kind wife ? 

57 find it. D, find him. 

58 Hoiv . . . brother? Begins following line in Q<\, 



H tErtir OTliite mtm [act i. 

Cami/U. I assure you, brother, no ; my voy- 
age lyes 
More northerlie, in a farre colder clime; 
I do not well remember, I protest, 
When I last lay with her. 

F/am. Strange you should loose your count. 

Cam. Wee never lay together, but eare morn- 

1 heir grew a flaw betweene us. 

^^t"^- , T'had byn your part « 

1 o have made up that flaw. 

J P"";- , Trew, but shee loathes 

1 should be seene in't. 

F/am. Why sir, what's the matter? 

Cam. The duke your maister visits me, I i 
thanke him. 
And I perceave how, like an earnest bowler, 
Hee very passionatelie leanes that way 7, 

He should have his boule runne. 

^^^^' I hope you do not thinke 

Cam, That noble men boule bootie ? faith 
his cheeke ' 

Hath a most excellent bias ; it would faine 
Jumpe with my mistris. 

62-63 Ifo . . Aer. One line in Qq. 65 T^AaJ. CD, 'Thad. 
66-67 Tre'w..in't. One line in Qq. ' 

71 should. CD, would. 

72 cheeke. Query: chique or check. Cf. last note, p. 186 
74 Jumpe . . . mtstris. Ends preceding line in Qq. 



I 



Scene II] tl^j^t Wtlttf 2Det)il 15 

Flam. Will you be an asse, 

Despight you[r] Aristotle, or a cocould 75 

Contrary to your Ephemerides 
Which shewes you under what a smiling planet 
You were first swadled ? 

Cam. Pew wew, sir, tell not me 

Of planets nor of Ephemerides : 
A man may be made cocould in the day time 80 
When the stars eyes are out. 

Flam. Sir, God boy you ; 

I do commit you to your pittifull pillow 
Stuft with home-shavings. 

Cam. Brother — 

Flam. God refuse me. 

Might I advise you now, your onlie course 
Weare to locke up your wife. 

Cam. T' weare very good. 85 

F/am. Bar her the sight of revels. 

Cam. Excellent. 

Flam. Let her not go to church, but like a 
hounde 
In [leam] at your heeles. 

Cam. Tweare for her honour. 

Flam. And so you should be certayne in one 
fortnight, 

75 your. AB, you. 

80 made. Dyce, Vaughan, erroneously: made a. 

81 boy. D, bu'y ; Dyce, b'wi'. 

88 /earn. Qcy Leon ; Steevens, leam ; Dyce, lyam. 



1 6 tn^^e Wi\)itt Wti^il [Act I. 

Despight her chastity or innocence, 

To bee cocoulded, which yet is in suspence : 

This is my counsell and I aske no fee for't. 

Cam. Come, you know not where my night- 
cap wringes mee. 

Flam. Weare it ath' old fashion ; let your 
large eares come through, it will be more easy : 95 
— nay, I will be bitter, — barre your wife of her , 
entertaynment : women are more willinglie & 
more gloriouslie chast, when they are least re- 
strayned of their libertie. It seemes you would 
be a fine capricious mathematically jealous cox- 100. 
combe ; take the height of your owne homes 
with a Jacobs staffe afore they are up. These 
polliticke inclosures for paltry mutton makes j 
more rebellion in the flesh then all the provoc- , 
ative electuaries doctors have uttered sence last 105; 
jubilee. 

Cam. This doth not phisicke me. 

Flam. It seemes you are jealous : He shew 
you the error of it by a familiar example. I 
have scene a paire of spectacles fashiond with no 
such perspective art, that lay downe but one 
twelve pence ath' bord, twill appeare as if there 
were twenty ; now, should you weare a paire 
of these spectacles, and see your wife tying her 
shooe, you would imagine twenty hands were 115 

103 makes. D, make. 

'1 



Scene II] ^j^t Wi^t SDetjll 1 7 

taking up of your wives clothes, and this would 
put you into a horrible causlesse fury. 

Cam. The fault there, sir, is not in the eye- 
sight. 

Flam. True, but they that have the yellow 120 
jaundeise thinke all objects they looke on to bee 
yellow. Jealousy is worser ; her fits present to 
a man, like so many bubles in a bason of water, 
twenty severall crabbed faces ; many times makes 
his owne shadow his cocould-maker. \^EnUri^s 
Fittoria.'] See, she comes. What reason have you 
to be jealous of this creature ? what an ignorant 
asse or flattering knave might he be counted, 
that should write sonnets to her eyes, or call her 
brow the snow of Ida, or ivorie of Corinth, or 130 
compare her haire to the blacke birds bill, when 
'tis liker the blacke birds feather ! This is all : 
be wise, I will make you freinds, and you shall 
go to bed together. Marry looke you, it shall 
not be your seeking; do you stand upon that by 135 
any meanes ; walk you a loofe ; I would not 
have you scene in't. \Camillo re tires. ~\ Sister — 
(my lord attends you in the banquetting house), 
your husband is wondrous discontented. 

121 ivorser. BCD, worse. 

126 See is preceded by a * in Qq, to indicate an entrance. 
A gives in margin (clipped by binder) : cr Corom- j D has, Enter 
Vit. A similar* occurs after ivisdome, p. 143, 1. 74. 



1 8 Wf^t Mljitf SDetJll [Act I. 

Fit. I did nothing to displease him ; I carved 
to him at supper-time. 

F/am. You need not have carved him infaith. 
(They say he is a capon already. — I must now 
seemingly fall out with you.) Shall a gentleman 
so well descended as Camillo, — (a lousy slave 
that within this twenty yeares rode with the 
blacke guard in the dukes cariage mongst spits 
and dripping-pannes) — 

Cam. Now he begins to tickle her. 

Flam. An excellent scholler (one that hath an 
head fild with calves braynes without any sage 
in them) — come crouching in the hams to you 
for a nights lodging ? (that hath an itch in's 
hams, which like the fier at the glasse house 
hath not gone out this seaven yeares.) Is heeij 
not a courtly gentleman ? (When he weares 
white sattin, one would take him by his blacke 
mussel to be no other creature then a maggoc.) 
You are a goodly foile, I confesse, well set out 
— (but coverd with a false stone, yon conter-i4 
faite dyamond). 

Cam. He will make her know what is in mee. 

1 42 Tou need, etc. Flamineo's speeches in this dialogue are full 
of asides to Vittoria. 

158 mussel. D, muzzle. 

160 yon. BD, you. Dyce notes that some copies of A have : 
cover . . . your. The reading of B.M. copy of A, here given, 
is certainly correct. 



Scene II] XE^t OTtltte SDetjll 1 9 

Flam. Come, my lord attends you — (thou 
shalt go to bed to my lord) — 

Cam. Now he comes to't. 165 

F/am. With a relish as curious as a vintner 
going to taste new wine. (I am opening your 
case hard.) 

Cam. A vertuous brother, a my credit. 

Flam. He will give thee a ringe with a philo- 170 
sophers stone in it. 

Cam. Indeede I am studying alcumye. 

Flam. Thou shalt lye in a bed stuft with 
turtles feathers, swoone in perfumed lynnen 
like the fellow was smothered in roses. So per- 175 
feet shall be thy happinesse, that as men at sea 
thinke land and trees and shippes go that way 
they go, so both heaven and earth shall seeme 
to go your voyage. Shal't meete him ; tis fixt, 
with nayles of dyamonds to inevitable necessitie. 180 

Fit. [aside.'^ How shals rid him hence ? 

Flam. I will put brees in's tayle, set him 
gadding presentlie. \_To Camillo.'] I have almost 
wrought her to it, I find her comming; but 
might I advise you now, for this night I would 185 
not lye with her; I would crosse her humor to 
make her more humble. 

Cam. Shall I, shall I ? 

169 ^7 my. BCD, on my. 
182 brees. Dyce, [the] breesc. 



i; 



20 tB\)t Wi\)itt SDetjil [Act I. 

Flam. It will shew in you a supremacie of 
judgement. 

Cam. Trew, and a mind differing from the 
tumultuary opinion, for qu(^ negata grata. 

Flam. Right : you are the adamant shall draw 
her to you, though you keepe distance of[f]. 

Cam. A philosophicall reason. i« 

Flam. Walke by her a' the noble mans 
fashion, and tell her you will lye with her at the 
end of the progresse. 

Cam. Vittoria, I cannot be induc'd, or as a 
man would say incited — ac 

Vit. To do what, sir ? 

Cam. To lye with you to night. Your silke- 
worme useth to fast every third day, and the 
next following spinnes the better. To morrow 
at night I am for you. ac 

Vit. Youle spinne a faire thread, trust to't. 

Flam. But do' you heare, I shall have you 
steale to her chamber about midnight. 

Cam. Do you thinke so ? why looke you, 
brother, because you shall not thinke He gull 21 
you, take the key, locke me into the chamber, 
and say you shall be sure of me. 

Flam. Introth I will. He be your jaylor once. 
But have you nere a false dore ? 

Cam. A pox on't, as I am a Christian. Tellai 

194 off. AB, of. 212 say. Mr. Daniel suggests : so 



Scene II. ] ^\)t Wljlte SPetjil 21 

mee to morrow how scurvelie shee takes my un- 
kind parting. 

Fiam. I will. 

Cam. Didst thou not [mark] the jeast of the 
silke-worme ? Good night : in faith I will use 220 
this tricke often. 

Flam. Do, do, do. So now you are 
safe. Ha ha ha ! thou intanglest thyselfe ^^'^,, 

1 ■ 1 1-1 -11 Camtllo. 

m thme owne worke like a silke-worme. 
Come sister; darkenesse hides your blush. Wo- 225 
men are like curst dogges : civilitie keepes them 
tyed all day time, but they are let loose at mid- 
night ; then they do most good or most mis- 
cheefe. My lord, my lord ! 

Enter Brachiano. Zanche brings out a carpet, 
spreads it and layes on it two /aire cushions. 

Brachiano. Give credit : I could wish time 

would stand still, 230 

And never end this entervew, this hower ; 
But all delight doth it selfe soon'st devour. 

Enter Cornelia \_listening.'\ 
Let me into your bosome, happy ladie, 
Powre out, in stead of eloquence, my vowes. 

219 mark. ABC, make. 

224 silke-ivorme. Brachiano' s entrance comes here in ABC. 
D here marks Act. i. Seen. 3., and places Brachiano's entrance 
as here given. 

226 ci'vilitie. BCD, cruelty. 

Enter Cornelia, etc. Listening is added in MS in A. 



22 XE^^t mi^tt WMl [Act I. 

Loose me not, madam, for if you forego me, 
I am lost eternallie. 

^/^' Sir, in the way of pittie 

I wish you hart-hole. 

^^/^^^' You are a sweet phisition. 

Fit. Sure, sir, a loathed crueltie in ladyes 
Is as to doctors many funeralls : 
It takes away their credit. 

^r^r>?>. Excellent creature ! 2^\ 

Wee call the cruell fayre ; what name for you 
That are so mercifull ? 

Zancbe. See now they close. 

F/am. Most happie union. 
Cornelia. My feares are falne upon me : oh 
my heart ! 
My Sonne the pandar ! now I find our house 
Sinking to ruine. Earth-quakes leave behind, 
Where they have tyrannised, iron, lead, or stone : 
But woe to ruine, violent lust leaves none ! 
Brack. What valew is this jewell ? 

/^^* Tis the ornament 

Of a weake fortune. 

Brack. In sooth He have it ; nay, I will but 
change 
My Jewell for your jewell. 

2.36 I . . . . eternallie. Ends preceding line in Qq. 
236-237 Sir . . . hart-hole. One line in Qq. 
239-240 h . . . credit. One line in Qq. 
247 lead. A, or lead. 



245 



Scene II.] tB\)t WSi^tt WM\ 23 

Flam, Excellent, — 

His Jewell for her Jewell, — well put in, duke. 

Brack. Nay, let me see you weare it. 

Vit. Heare, sir. 

Brack, Nay, lower, you shall weare my jewell 

lower. ^55 

Flam. That's better, she must weare his 
Jewell lower. 

Vit. To passe away the time. He tell your 
grace 
A dreame I had last night. 

Brack. Most wishedly. 

Vit. A foolish idle dreame : 
Me thought I walkt about the mid of night 260 
Into a church-yard, where a goodly Eu tree 
Spred her large roote in ground. Under that Eu, 
As I sat sadly leaning on a grave. 
Checkered with crosse-sticks, their came steal- 
ing in 
Your dutchesse and my husband; one of them 265 
A picax bore, th' other a rusty spade. 
And in rough termes they gan to challenge me, 
About this Eu. 

Brack. That tree ? 

Vit. This harmelesse Eu. 

They told me my entent was to root up 
That well-growne Eu, and plant i'th steed of it 270 

261 Eu. BCD, Ewe, as throughout the narrative. 



24 tET^r WH^itt SDeiJil [act i. 

A withered blacke-thorne, and for that they 

vow'd 
To bury me alive. My husband straight 
With picax gan to dig, and your fell dutchesse 
With shovell, like a fury, voyded out 
The earth, & scattered bones. Lord, how me 

thought a 

I trembled, and yet for all this terror 
I could not pray. 

Flam. No, the divell was in your dreame. 
Fit. When to my rescue there arose, me 
thought, 
A whirlewind, which let fall a massy arme 
From that strong plant, 2i 

And both were strucke dead by that sacred Eu 
In that base shallow grave that was their due. 
Flam. Excellent divell ! Shee hath taught him 
in a dreame 
To make away his dutchesse and her husband. 
Brach. Sweetly shall I enterpret this your 
dreame : ai 

You are lodged within his armes who shall pro- 
tect you. 
From all the feavers of a jealous husband. 
From the poore envy of our flegmaticke dutch- 
esse : 
rie seate you above law and above scandall, 

283 Shee . . . dreame. Separate line in Qq. 
286 lodged. B, lodgd. 



Scene II] tETJ^f WSSi^Ut ^tUl 25 

Give to your thoughts the invention of delight 290 
And the fruition ; nor shall government 
Divide me from you longer then a care 
To keepe you great : you shall to me at once 
Be dukedome, health, wife, children, friends 
and all. 

Cor. Woe to light hearts, they still forerun 
our fall ! 295 

Fiam, What fury rais'd thee up? Away, 
away ! Exit Zanche. 

Cor, What make you heare, my lord, this 
dead of night ? 
Never dropt meldew on a flower here tell now. 

Flam, I pray will you go to bed then, 
Least you be blasted ? 

Cor. O that this faire garden, 300 

Had all [with] poysoned hearbes of Thessaly 
At first bene planted ; made a nursery 
For witch-craft ; rather [then] a buriall plot 
For both your honours. 

Vit, Dearest mother, heare me. 

Cor. O thou dost make my brow bend to the 
earth, 305 

Sooner then nature ! See the curse of children, — 
In life they keepe us frequently in teares. 
And in the cold grave leaves us in pale feares. 

298 tell. B, till. 301 loith. MS note in A. 

303 then. Omitted in AB. 308 leaves. D, leave. 



26 ®t)e WX\)itt SDebil [act i. 

Brach. Come, come, I will not heare you. 

Fit. Deere my lord — 

Cor. Where is thy dutchesse now, adulterous 
duke ? 31 

Thou little dreamd'st this night shee is come to 
Rome. 

Flam. How ? come to Rome ? 

Vit. The dutchesse ? 

Brach. She had bene better — 

Cor. The lives of princes should like dyals 
move. 
Whose regular example is so strong. 
They make the times by them go right or wrong. 315 

Flam. So, have you done ? 

Cor. Unfortunate Camillo ! 

Vit. I do protest, if any chast deniall. 
If anything but bloud could have alayed 
His long suite to me — 

Cor. I will joyne with thee, 

To the most wofull end ere mother kneel'd : 32c 
If thou dishonour thus thy husbands bed. 
Bee thy life short as are the funerall teares 
In great mens. 

Brach. Fye, fye, the womans mad. 

Cor. Bee thy act Judas-like, betray in kissing : 
Maiest thou be envied during his short breath, 32 
And pittied like a wretch after his death ! 

323 mens. Dyce, men's — 326 hh. A, this. 



I 



Scene II] ^\)t WlSi^itt SDetJll 27 

Fit. O me accurst ! Exit Fictoria. 

Flam, Are you out of your wits, my lord ? 
He fetch her backe againe. 

Brack. No, Tie to bed : 

Send Doctor Julio to me presently. 
Uncharitable woman, thy rash tongue 330 

Hath rais'd a fearefull and prodigious storme : 
Bee thou the cause of all ensuing harme ! 

Exit Brachiano. 

Flam, Now, you that stand so much upon 
your honour, 
Is this a fitting time a night, thinke you, 
To send a duke home without ere a man? 335 

I would faine know where lies the masse of 

wealth 
Which you have whoorded for my maintenance, 
That I may beare my beard out of the levell 
Of my lords stirop. 

Cor. What ? because we are poore. 

Shall we be vitious ? 

Flam, Pray, what meanes have you 340 

To keepe me from the gallies, or the gallowes ? 
My father prov'd himselfe a gentleman. 
Sold aFs lands, and like a fortunate fellow. 
Died ere the money was spent. You brought 

me up 
At Padua, I confesse, where, I protest, 345 

337 luhoorded. Dyce, hoarded. 



28 tBf)t HmUtt mt\)il [Act I. 

For want of meanes, the university judge me, 

I have bene faine to heele my tutors stockings. | 

At least seven yeares : conspiring with a beard 

Made me a graduate ; then to this dukes service. 

I visited the court, whence I returned 351; 

More courteous, more letcherous by farre, 

But not a suite the richer : and shall I, 

Having a path so open and so free 

To my preferment, still retaine your milke 

In my pale forehead ? no, this face of mine 355 

rie arme and fortefie with lusty wine 

'Gainst shame and blushing. 

Cor. O that I ne're had borne thee. 

^-^^^- So would I. 

I would the commonest courtezan in Rome 

Had bene my mother rather then thy selfe. 3603 

Nature is very pitt[i]full to whoores. 

To give them but few children, yet those children 

Plurality of fathers : they are sure 

They shall not want. Go, go, 

Complaine unto my great lord cardinall : 365 

Yet may be he will justifie the act. 

Lycurgus wondred much men would provide 

Good stalions for their mares, and yet would 
suffer 

Their faire wives to be barren. 

351 courteous, courteous &, MS correction in A 
366 yet may. BCD, It may. 



Scene II.] tH^t Wi^t SDeiJll 29 

Cor, Misery of miseries ! Exit Cornelia, 11^ 

Flam, The dutchesse come to court ? I like 
not that. 
Wee are ingagM to mischiefe and must on. 
As rivers to finde out the ocean 
Flow with crooke bendings beneath forced 

bankes, 
Or, as wee see, to aspire some mountaines top, 375 
The way ascends not straight, but imitates 
The suttle fouldings of a winters snake ; 
So who knowes policy and her true aspect, 
Shall finde her waies winding and indirect. 

Exit, 

377 luinten. BC, winter. 



[Act II, Scene i.] 

[^Rome. A Room in Francisco^ s Palace. '\ 

Enter Francisco de Medicis, Cardinall MountcelsOy 
Marcelloy Isabellay young Giovanniy with little 
Jaques the Moore. 

Francisco. Have you not scene your husband 
since you arived ? 

Isabella. Not yet sir. 

Fran. Surely he is wondrous kind. 

If I had [such a] dove-house as Camillo's, 
I would set fire on't, wer't but to destroy 
The pole-cats that haunt to't. — My sweet 
cossin ! 

Giovanni. Lord unkle, you did promise mee 
a horse 
And armour. 

Fran. That I did, my pretty cossin. 

Marcello, see it fitted. 

Marcello. My lord, the duke is here. 

Fran. Sister, away ! 
You must not yet bee scene. 

Isah. I do beseech you i« 

Intreate him mildely ; let not your rough tongue 

2 ivondrous. BCD, wonderful!. 3 such a. A, a such. 

8 lord. In A there is no pause after this word. 
lo-n I . . . mildely. Forms one line in Qq. 



Scene I] ^1)0 'M\)itt SPetJll 31 

Set us at louder variance ; all my wrongs 

Are freely pardoned, and I do not doubt, 

As men to try the precious unicornes home 

Make of the powder a preservative circle 15 

And in it put a spider, so these armes 

Shall charme his poyson, force it to obeying, 

And keepe him chast from an infected straying. 

Fran. I wish it may. Be gone. Void the 
chamber : 

\_Exeunf Isabella^ Giovanni and Jaques.'^ 
Enter Brachiano and Flamineo. 
You are welcome ; will you sit ? I pray, my lord, 20 
Bee you my orator, my hearts too full ; 
rie second you anon. 

Monticelso, E're I beginne. 

Let me entreat your grace forgo all passion 
Which may be raised by my free discourse. 

Brachiano, As silent as i'th church you may 
proceed. 25 

Mont. It is a wonder to your noble friends, 
That you have as 'twere entred the world 
With a free scepter in your able hand, 
And have to th' use of nature well applyed 

Exeunt, etc. ABC have merely : Exit. The directions in Qq 
precede Void. 

25 church. D places a comma after church ; Dyce, a colon. 

27 have. BCD, Dyce, having. 

29 have. Dyce omits ha-ve rather than change to having, which 
the BCD reading adopted by him requires. 



32 m^^t Mtiite SDebtl [act n. 

High gifts of learning, should in your prime-age 
Neglect your awfull throne for the soft downe 
Of an insatiate bed. Oh my lord, 
The drunkard after all his lavish cuppes 
Is dry, and then is sober; so at length. 
When you awake from this lascivious dreame. 
Repentance then will follow ; like the sting 
Plac't in the adders tayle. Wretched are princes 
When fortune blasteth but a petty flower 
Of their unweldy crownes ; or ravesheth 
But one pearle from their scepter [s] : but alas ! ^ 
When they to wilfull shipwrake loose good fame, 
All princely titles perish with their name. 

Brack. You have said, my lord. 

^o^t' Inough to give you tast 

How farre I am from flattering your greatnesse ? 

Brack. Now you that are his second, what 
say you ? ^, 

Do not like yong hawkes fetch a course about : 
Your game flies faire and for you. 

^^^'^^ Do not feare it : 

I le answere you in your owne hawking phrase. 
Some eagles that should gaze upon the sunne 
Seldome soare high, but take their lustfull ease, 5^ 
Smce they from dunghill birds their prey can 

ceaze : 
You know Vittoria ? 



41 loose. Dyce, lose. 



I 



Scene I] W^t WSSi^tt SDeWl 33 

Brack. Yes. 

Fran. You shift your shirt there 

When you retire from tennis ? 

Brack. Happely. 

Fran. Her husband is [the] lord of a poore 
fortune, 
Yet she wears cloth of tissue. 

Brack. What of this ? 55 

Will you urge that, my good lord cardinall, 
As part of her confession at next shrift, 
And know from whence it sailes ? 

Fran. She is your strumpet. 

Brack. Uncivill sir, ther's hemlocke in thy 
breath. 
And that blacke slander. Were she a whore of 

mine, 60 

All thy loud cannons, and thy borrowed 

Switzers, 
Thy gallies, nor thy sworne confederates. 
Durst not supplant her. 

Fran. Let's not talke on thunder. 

Thou hast a wife, our sister ; would I had given 
Both her white hands to death, bound and lockt 

fast 65 

In her last winding sheete, when I gave thee 
But one ! 

54 the. A MS note in A inserts the before Lordy doubtless 
correctly. 63 talke on. D, talk of. 



34 tlCl^e Wii^itt SDeUil [act ii. 

Brach. Thou hadst given a soule to God then. 

fran. True • 

Thy ghostly father, with al's absolution, 
Shall ne're do so by thee. 

^^^^^' Spit thy poyson. 

Fran. I shall not need; lust carries her 
sharpe whippe 
At her own girdle. Looke to't, for our anger 
Is making thunder-bolts. 

^/^^^^^- Thunder? infaith, 

They are but crackers. 

Fran. Wee'le end this with the cannon. 

Brach. Thou'lt get nought by it but iron in 
thy wounds. 
And gunpowder in thy nostrels. 

_/^^'^- Better that, 

1 hen change perfumes for plaisters. 

,^^^^^'^- Pittyonthee! 

1 were good you'ld shew your slaves or men 
condemned 
Your new plow'd fore-head defiance, and Tie 

meete thee. 
Even in a thicket of thy ablest men. 

Mont. My lords, you shall not word it any 
further j 

Without a milder limit. 

1 '^^^Tf"'' ) ' ; i'-^''""' Dycereads>rf/iffli.i,>«„, and queries 
plum d for /)/o'zyV. 
8o lords. BCD, lord. 



Scene I] tIJ^\)t M^ltC SDetjtl 35 

Fran. Willingly. 

Brach. Have you proclaimed a triumph, that 
you baite 
A lyon thus ? 

Mont, My lord ! 

Brach. I am tame, I am tame, sir. 

Fran. We send unto the duke for confer- 
ence 
Bout leavyes 'gainst the pyrates ; my lord 

duke 85 

Is not at home ; we come our selfe in person ; 
Still my lord duke is busied : but we feare 
When Tyber to each proling passenger 
Discovers flockes of wilde-duckes ; then, my 

lord, — 
'Bout moulting time, I meane, — wee shall be 

certaine 9° 

To finde you sure enough and speake with you. 
Brach. Ha ! 

Fran. A meere tale of a tub, my wordes are 
idle. 
But to expresse the sonnet by naturall reason. 

Enter Giovanni. 
When stagges grow melancholike, you'le finde 
the season. 
Mont. No more, my lord, heare comes a 
champion 95 

8 3 yf ends preceding line in AB ; in C the line ends in Lion ,• 
in D in thus. 88 proling. Dyce, prowling. 



36 w^t mutt mtm [act h 

Shall end the difFerence betweene you both 
Your Sonne the Prince Giovanni. See, my lords 
What hopes you store in him : this is a caskei 
for both your crowns, & should be held like 

deere. 
Now is he apt for knowledge ; therefore know 
It is a more direct and even way 
To traine to vertue those of princely bloud 
By examples then by precepts : if by examples. 
Whom should he rather strive to imitate 
Then his owne father ? be his patterne, then • 
Leave him a stocke of vertue that may last, 
Should fortune rend his sailes, and split his mast. 
BracL Your hand, boy; growing to fa] 
souldier? -^ 

Giovanni. Give me a pike. 

Fran. What, practising your pike so yong, 

faire cous ? 
Giov. Suppose me one of Homers froffges 
my lord, ^^ ' 

Tossing my bul-rush thus : pray sir, tell mee 
Might not a child of good descretion 
Be leader to an army ? 

r^f^''''\ J . ^^^' cousin, a yong prince 

Ut good descretion might. 

^^^'^' Say you so ? 

Indeed I have heard 'tis fit a generall , 

lo8 a. Omitted in A, perhaps correctly. 



Scene L] XE^^t Wi\)Ut WttH 37 

Should not endanger his owne person oft ; 

So that he make a noyse, when hee's a horse- 

backe. 
Like a danske drummer, O 'tis excellent ! — 
Hee need not fight ; — me thinkes his horse as 

well 
Might lead an army for him. If I live, 120 

rie charge the French foe, in the very front 
Of all my troupes, the formost man. 

Fran. What, what ! 

Giov. And will not bid my souldiers up and 
follow. 
But bid them follow me. 

Brack. Forward lap-wing ! 

He flies with the shell on's head. 

Fran. Pretty cousin ! 125 

Giov. The first yeare, unkle, that I go to 
warre. 
All prisoners that I take I will set free 
Without their ransome. 

Fran. Ha, without thier ransome ! 

How then will you reward your souldiers 
That tooke those prisoners for you ? 

Giov. Thus, my lord : 130 

rie marry them to all the wealthy widowes 
That fals that yeare. 

118 danske. C, Dantzicke. 

1 24 Forward. MS suggestion in A : A forward ; Dyce, For- 
ward, lapwing, xj^x fah. D, fall. 



38 tB^^t mute mtbll [Act II. 

Fran Why then, the next yeare following 
You le have no men to go with you to warre. 

G,ov. Why then, I'le presse the women to 
the war, 
And then the men will follow. 

f'""'' , Witty prince! r 

^ran. See, a good habite makes a child a 
man, 

Whereas a bad one makes a man a beast. 

Come, you and I are friends. 

r-^"Z^' ,. , Mostwishedly; 

Like bones which, broke in sunder and well 

set. 
Knit the more strongly. 

^''""^ Call [Isabella] hither. ,4 

V , [£xu Servant.'] 

You have received the rumor, how Count 

Lodowicke 
Is turn'd a pyrate ? 

Brach. Yes. 

^r.J''\- r , ^^ ^^^ "°^ preparing 

Some sh.ppes to fetch him in. Behold your 

dutchesse. "^ 

Wee now will leave you, and expect from you 
Nothing but kind intreaty. 

139 f'foke. D, broken. 

140 Call Isabella. ABC, CaU CamiUo. 
Exit Servant. Dyce, Exit Marcello. 



Scene I.] Wf^t Wi^tt ISDebll 39 

Brach. You have charm'd mee. 145 

Exeunt Fr\an- 

\ Enter Isabella.-] chco,-\Mon\ti. 

Marcello and 

You are in. health, we see. Flamineo.'] 

Isabella. And above health, 

To see my lord well. 

Brach. So I wonder much. 

What amorous whirlewind hurryed you to 
Rome ? 

Isab. Devotion, my lord. 

Brach. Devotion ? 

Is your soule charg'd with any grievous sinne ? 150 

Isab. 'Tis burdened with too many, and I 
thinke 
The oftner that we cast our reckonings up. 
Our sleepes will be the sounder. 

Brach. Take your chamber. 

Isab. Nay, my deere lord, I will not have you 
angry ; 
Doth not my absence from you [these] two 

moneths, 155 

Merit one kisse ? 

Brach. I do not use to kisse : 

If that will dispossesse your jealousy, 
rie sweare it to you. 

147 So I. D, So, I ; Dyce, So. I. 

155 these h suggested in MS in A. CD, now. 



40 ®l&e Mtitte WMi [act ii. 

Isah. O my loved lord, 

I do not come to chide ; my jealousy ! 
I [am] to learne what that Italian meanes. 
You are as welcome to these longing armes, 
As I to you a virgine. 

Brach. O your breath ! 

Out upon sweete meates, and continued phys- 

icke. 
The plague is in them ! 

Isab. You have oft for these two lippes 

Neglected cassia or the naturall sweetes i< 

Of the spring-violet ; they are not yet much 

whithered. 
My lord, I should be merry : these your frownes 
Shew in a helmet lovely, but on me. 
In such a peacefull enterveiw, me thinkes 
They are to[o] too roughly knit. 

Brach. O dissemblance ! 

Do you bandy factions 'gainst me ? have you 

learn't 
The trick of impudent basenes, to complaine 
Unto your kindred ? 

Isab, Never, my deere lord. 

Brach. Must I be haunted out, or wast your 
trick 
To meete some amorous gallant heere in Rome, 17: 
That must supply our discontinuance ? 

160 lam. A, I come. 174 haunted. D, hunted. 



J 



Scene I] ®J|e Mljlte SDetJll ^l 

Lab. I pray, sir, burst my heart ; and in my 
death 
Turne to your antient pitty, though not love. 
Brack. Because your brother is the corpulent 
duke, 
That is, the great duke, 'sdeath, I shall not 

shortly i8o 

Rackit away five hundreth crownes at tenis, 
But it shall rest upon record ! I scorne him 
Like a shav'd Pollake; all his reverent wit 
Lies in his wardrope ; hee's a discret fellow 
When hee's made up in his roabes of state, 185 
Your brother the great duke, because h'as 

gallies. 
And now and then ransackes a Turkish flye- 

boate, 
(Now all the hellish furies take his soule !) 
First made this match. Accursed be the priest 
That sang the wedding masse, and even my 

issue ! 190 

Isab. O to [o] too far you have curst ! 
Brack. Your hand Tie kisse : 

This is the latest ceremony of my love ; 
Hence-forth Tie never lye with thee, — by this. 
This wedding-ring, Fie ne're more lye with thee. 
And this divorce shall be as truely kept 195 

As if the judge had doom'd it. Fare you well, 
Our sleeps are sever'd. 

181 hundreth. B, hundred. 



42 Wi^t Wi\)itt 2r>ebil [act n. 

Isab. Forbid it, the sweet union 

Of all things blessed ! why the saints in heaven 
Will knit their browes at that. 

Brack. Let not thy love 

Make thee an unbeleever ; this my vow ■ 

Shall never, on my soule, bee satisfied 
With my repentance : let thy brother rage 
Beyond a horred tempest or sea-fight. 
My vow is fixed. 

Isab. O my winding sheet. 

Now shall I need thee shortly. Deere my lord, 2: 
Let me heare once more, what I would not 

heare. 
Never. 

Brack. Never. 

Isab. O my unkind lord, may your sins find 
mercy. 
As I upon a woefull widowed bed 
Shall pray for you, if not to turne your eyes 2; 
Upon your wretched wife and hopefull sonne, 
Yet that in time you'le fix them upon heaven. 

Brack. No more ; go, go, complaine to the 
great duke. 

Isab. No my deere lord, you shall have pre- 
sent witnesse 
How rie worke peace betweene you. I will 
make a 

207 Never. Never. So D ; ABC, Never. Never ? Dyce, 
Never ? Never. 






Scene l] tETJe Mtjitc WMl 43 

My selfe the author of your cursed vow : 
I have some cause to do it, you have none ; 
Conceale it, 1 beseech you, for the weale 
Of both your dukedomes, that you wrought the 

meanes 
Of such a separation ; let the fault 420 

Remaine with my supposed jealousy, 
And thinke with what a pitteous and rent heart, 
I shall performe this sad insuing part. 

Enter Francisco^ FlamineOy MonticelsOy Marcello, 

Brach. Well, take your course. My honour- 
able brother. 

Francisco. Sister ! this is not well, my lord ; 
why sister ! 225 

She merits not this welcome. 

Brach. Welcome, say ? 

Shee hath given a sharpe welcome. 

Fran. Are you foolish ? 

Come dry your teares ; is this a modest course. 
To better what is nought, to raile and weepe ? 
Grow to a reconcilement, or, by heaven, 230 

rie nere more deale betweene you. 

hah. Sir, you shall not ; 

Enter FranciscOy etc. Qq add, Camillo. D marks Act. 2. 
Seen. 2, 

224 course. My. ABC have no punctuation between these words. 

227 given. MS note in A, given me. 

228 course. A puts a period, BCD an interrogation after this. 



44 ^^t mWt WtUi [Act II. 

No, though Vittoria upon that condition 
Would become honest. 

Fran. Was your husband loud 

Since we departed ? 

Lab. By my life, sir, no ; 

I sweare by that I do not care to loose. a? 

Are all these ruines of my former beauty 
Laid out for a whores triumph ? 

Fran. Do you heare : 

Looke upon other women, with what patience 
They suffer these slight wrongs, [and] with 

what justice 
They study to requite them ; take that course. 24 

Isab. O that I were a man, or that I had 
power 
To execute my apprehended wishes ! 
I would whip some with scorpions. 

Fran. What ? turnM fury ? 

Isab. To dig the strumpets eyes out, let her lye 
Some twenty monethes a dying, to cut ofF 24 

Her nose and lippes, pull out her rotten teeth. 
Preserve her flesh like Mummia, for trophies 
Of my just anger ! Hell to my affliction 
Is meere snow-water. By your favour, sir, — 
Brother, draw neere, and my lord cardinall, — 45 
Sir, let me borrow of you but one kisse : 

239 ivitA. MS in A, & with j Qq, with. 
241 or that. MS erasure of or in A. 



Scene I] XB\)t Mljlte WMl 45 

Hence-forth Tie never lye with you, by this. 
This wedding-ring. 

Fran. How ? nere more lie with him ? 

Isab. And this divorce shall be as truly kept. 
As if in thronged court, a thousand eares 255 

Had heard it, and a thousand lawyers hands 
Seal'd to the separation. 

Brack. Nere lie with me ? 

Isab. Let not my former dotage 

Make thee an unbelever: this my vow 
Shall never, on my soule, be satisfied 260 

With my repentance ; manet alta mente re- 
postum. 

Fran. Now by my birth, you are a foolish, 
mad. 
And jealous woman. 

Brack. You see 'tis not my seeking. 

Fran. Was this your circle of pure unicornes 
home. 
You said should charme your lord ? Now homes 

upon thee, 265 

For jealousy deserves them ! Keepe your vow. 
And take your chamber. 

Isab. No sir, I'le presently to Padua; 

I will not stay a minute. 

Monticelso. O good madame ! 

Brack. 'Twere best to let her have her humor ; 

261 repentance, (^uery : thy repentance, repostum. A, repositum. 



Some halfe dales journey will bring downe her 

stomacke, 
And then she'le turne in post. 

Fran. Xo see her come 

1 o my lord cardmall for a dispensation 
Of her rash vow will beget excellent laughter. 
Isab. " Unkindnesse, do thy office; poore 
heart, breake ; 
" Those are the killing greifes which dare not 
.^ speake. ^^^^^^ 

Mar. Camillo's come, my lord. £nfer Camillo. 
Fran. Where's the commission \ 

Mar. Tis here. 

Fran. Give me the signet. 

{Exeunt Francisco^ Monticebo, Camillo, Marcello.-] 

Flamineo. My lord, do you marke their whis- 
permg ? I will compound a medicine out of their 
two heads, stronger then garlick, deadher thenzg 
stibmm ; the cantarides which are scarce scene 
to sticke upon the flesh when they work to the 
heart, shall not do it with more silence or invisi- 
ble cunning. Enter Doctor. 
Brach. About the murder ? 
Flam. They are sending him to Naples, but 
1 le send him to Candy. Here 's another pro- 
perty to [o] . 

Enter Camillo. Dyce places Marcello's entrance here. 

''^'^ ^^r.'.. AB, her's. ^88 too. D corrects. 



28 



I 



Scene L] ^^t WiWt W>Ml 47 

Brack, O the doctor ! 

Flam. A poore quackesalving knave, my lord; 290 
one that should have bene lasht for's letchery, 
but that he confest a judgement, had an execu- 
tion laid upon him, and so put the w^hip to a 
non-plus. 

Doctor. And was cosin'd, my lord, by an ar-295 
ranter knave then my selfe, and made pay all 
the coulourable execution. 

Flam. He will shoot pils into a mans guts, 
shall make them have more ventages then a cor- 
net or a lamprey ; hee will poyson a kisse ; and 3°° 
was once minded, for his master-peece, because 
Ireland breeds no poyson, to have prepared a 
deadly vapour in a Spaniards fart, that should 
have poison'd all Dublin. 

Brack. O Saint Anthony fire ! 305 

Doc, Your secretary is merry, my lord. 

Flam. O thou cursed antipathy to nature ! 
Looke, his eyes bloud-shed, like a needle a chi- 
rurgeon stitcheth a wound with. Let me em- 
brace thee, toad, & love thee, O thou abhomin-310 
able lothsome gargarisme, that will fetch up 
lungs, lights, heart, and liver, by scruples ! 

Brack. No more : I must employ thee, hon- 
est doctor : 

299 cornet. Query: coney. Cf. note 47, 299, p. 190. 

305 Anthony. BC, Anthonies. 

311 lothsome. Dyce notes that some copies of A have lethan. 



48 Wi)t W!3ii)itt mtm [Act II. , 

You must to Padua, and by the way, 
U se some of your skil for us. 

^''\ o . Sir, I shall. 

Bracb. But for Camillo ? 

F/am. He dies this night, by such a poUiticke 
strame, 
Men shall suppose him by's owne engine slaine. 
tJut tor your dutchesse death ? 

n^^*, c n . , I'ie make her sure. 

BracL Small mischiefes are by greater made 
secure. 

F/am. Remember this, you slave; when^^' 
knaves come to preferment they rise as gal- 
louses are raised i'th low countries, one upon an- 
others shoulders. ^^^^^^^ 

[E^^ter Monticelso, Camillo, Francisco, Marcello.-] 
Montkeho. Here is an embleme, nephew, prav 

peruse it. , 

'Twas throwne in at your window ^^^ 

„^^^'*^^^- At my window? 

Here ,s a stag, my lord, hath shed his homes. 
And for the losse of them the poore beast weepes ; 
1 he word, Inopem me copia fecit. 

315 f^^^ • . . us. Ends preceding line in Qq. 
315 -S'^/.W/ Omitted, Dyce notes, in 7ome copies of A 
324 another s. AB, another. ^ 

|^.««r^ So ABC; Dadds: Ent. Monc. Cam. Fra. 
Enter Monttceho. Symonds marks here a new scene 



Scene I] tBf^t Mtjttr Wt\)il 49 

Mont. That is, 

Plenty of homes hath made him poore of homes. 33° 

Cam. What should this meane ? 

Mont. He tell you j *tis given out 

You are a cocould. 

Cam. Is it given out so ? 

I had rather such report as that, my lord, 
Should keepe within dores. 

Fran. Have you any children? 

Cam. None, my lord. 

Fran. You are the happier : 335 

He tell you a tale. 

Cam. Pray, my lord. 

Fran. An old tale. 

Uppon a time Phoebus, the god of light, 
Or him wee call the Sunne, would neede be 

married. 
The gods gave their consent, and Mercury 
Was sent to voice it to the generall world. 34° 

But what a pitious cry their straight arose 
Amongst smiths, & felt-makers, brewers & 

cooks. 
Reapers and butter-women, amongst fishmon- 
gers. 
And thousand other trades, which are annoyed 
By his excessive heate ; twas lamentable : 345 

They came to Jupiter all in a sweat 

332 /i:V. BCD, It is. 11% neede. BCD, needs. 



And do forbid the banes ; a great fat cooke 
Was made their speaker, who intreates of Jove 
That Phoebus might bee guelded, for if now 
When there was but one sunne, so many men 
Weare like to perish by his violent heate, 
What should they do if hee were married 
And should beget more, and those children 
Make fier-workes like their father ? So say I ; 
Only I will apply it to your wife ; 
Her issue, should not providence prevent it. 
Would make both nature, time, and man repent 
it. 
Mont. Looke you, cossin. 

Go change the aire, for shame, see if your ab- 
sence 

Will blast your cornucopia. Marcello 3 

Is chosen with you joint commissioner 

For the relieving our Italian coast 

From pirats. 

Mar. I am much honord int. 

^ ^f'^- But sir, 

t^re 1 returne, the stagges homes may be sprouted 

Greater then these are shed. 

^„^^«^- Donot feareitj 3^ 

1 le bee your ranger. 

/^^f • You must watch i'th nights ; 

Then's the most danger. 

365 tAese. BCD, those. 



i 



Scene I.] ^^t WSi^itt SDetjll 5 1 

Fran, Farewell, good Marcello. 

All the best fortunes of a souldiers wish 
Bring you a ship-board ! 

Cam. Were I not best now I am turnM 

souldier, 370 

E're that I leave my wife, sell all shee hath. 
And then take leave of her ? 

Mont. I expect good from you. 

Your parting is so merry. 

Cam. Merry, my lord ? a'th captaines humor 
right, 
I am resolved to be drunke this night. Exit, 37s 
Fran. So, 'twas well fitted : now shall we 
descerne 
How his wisht absence will give violent way 
To Duke Brachiano's lust. 

Mont. Why that was it ; 

To what scorn'd purpose else should we make 

choice 
Of him for a sea captaine ? and besides, 380 

Count Lodowicke, which was rumor'd for a 

pirate. 
Is now in Padua. 

Fran. Is't true ? 

Mont. Most certaine. 

370 turn d. Query: turned. 

Exit. Dyce gives (probably correctly): Exeunt Camillo and 
Marcello. 



52 tB^t miUtt SE>et)tl [Act II. 

I have letters from him, which are suppliant 
To worke his quicke repeale from banishment ; 
He meanes to adresse himselfe for pention 31. 

Unto our sister dutchesse. 

T./Tn ^ '^^^s well. 

We shall not want his absence past sixe daies. 
I fame would have the Duke Brachiano run 
Into notorious scandale ; for their's nought 
In such curst dotage to repaire his name, 
Onely the deepe sence of some deathlesse shame. 

Mont. It may be objected I am dishonourable, 
1 o play thus with my kinsman, but I answere, 
Jjor my revenge Tde stake a brothers life. 
That, being wrong'd, durst not avenge himselfe. 39: 

/"ran. Come to observe this strumpet. 

c^T'^^ , , Cursseofgreatnes, 

Sure hee'le not leave her. 

J .,^^''"; , There*s small pitty in't; 

ivike mistle-tow on scare elmes spent by weather. 
Let him cleave to her and both rot together. 

Exeunt, 
[Scene ii.] i 

\Rome. Camillo's House.] I 

Enter Brachiano with one in the habite of a Conjurer. \ 

Brachiano. Now sir, I claime your promise 
'tis dead midnight. 

Scene ii. D, Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. 



Scene II] XE^f^t Wii\itt WMl 53 

The time prefixt to shew me, by your art, 
How the intended murder of Camillo 
And our loathed dutchesse grow to action. 
Conjurer, You have won me by your bounty 

to a deed 5 

I do not often practise. Some there are. 
Which by sophisticke tricks, aspire that name 
Which I would gladly loose, of nigromancer ; 
As some that use to juggle upon cardes. 
Seeming to conjure, when indeed they cheate : 10 
Others that raise up their confederate spirits, 
'Bout wind-mils, and indanger their owne 

neckes. 
For making of a squib : and some their are 
Will keepe a curtail to shew juggling trickes, 
And give out 'tis a spirit : besides these, 15 

Such a whole reame of almanacke-makers, fig- 

ure-flingers, 
Fellowes indeed that onely live by stealth, 
Since they do meerely lie about stolne goods, 
Thei'd make men thinke the divell were fast 

and loose. 
With speaking fustian Lattine. Pray sit downe, 20 
Put on this night-cap, sir, 'tis charm'd ; and 

now 
rie shew you by my strong-commanding art 
The circumstance that breakes your dutch [e] sse 

heart. 



54 tB^t WiUtt U>tm [AcTiij 

^ Dumbe Shew. 

Enter suspiciously, Julio and Christophero ; they draw 
a curtaine wher Brachian's picture is; they put 
on spectacles of glass e, which cover their eyes and 
noses, and then burne perfumnes afore the picture, 
and wash the lips of the picture; that done, 
quenching the fire, and putting off their spectacles, 
they depart laughing. 

Enter Isabella in her night-gowne as to bed-ward, with 
lights after her; Count Lodovico, Giovanni, {Gas- 
par o, An tone Hi,'] and others waighting on her; shee 
kneeles downe as to prayers, then drawes the cur- 
taine of the picture, doe's three reverences to it, and 
ktsses it thrice; shee faints ; and will not suffer 
them to come nere it; dies ; sorrow exprest in Gio- 
vanni and in Count Lodovico ; shees conveid out 
solemnly. 

Brack. Excellent ! then shee's dead. 

r, ^?* c , , ^^^'s poysoned 

^y the fum d picture. 'Twas her custome 

nightly, 
Before shee went to bed, to go and visite 
Your picture, and to feed her eyes and lippes 
On the dead shadow. Doctor Julio, 
Observing this, infects it with an oile' 
And other poison'd stufFe, which presently 
Did suffocate her spirits. 

Ga^paro, Antonelli. All editions read Guid- Antonio, which is 
meaningless. In all probability the MS read : Gasp. Anton. 



Scene II] tK^)e WSSif)itt SDebtl 55 

Brach, Me thought I saw 

Count Lodowicke there. 

Con, He was ; and by my art 

I finde hee did most passionately doate 
Upon your dutchesse. Now turne another way, 
And veiw Camillo's farre more polliticke [fate] . 35 
Strike louder, musicke, from this charmed 

ground, 
To yeeld, as fits the act, a tragicke sound. 

The Second Dumbe Shew, 

Enter Flamineoy Marcelloy Camilloy with foure more 
as Captaines ; they drinke healths, and dance : a 
vauting horse is brought into the roome ; Marcello 
and two more whisper^ d out of the roome y while 
Flamineo and Camillo strip themselves into their 
shirts y as to vault ; complement who shall heginne : 
as Camillo is about to vault, Flamineo pitcheth 
him upon his neckey and with the help of the rest, 
wriths his necke about ; seemes to see if it be broke, 
and lay es him foulded double y as ^ twerey under the 
horse ; makes shewes to call for helpe ; Marcello 
comes in, laments y sends for the Cardinall and 
Dukey who comes forth with armed men; wonder at 
the act ; commands the bodie to be carried home ; 
apprehends Flamineoy Marcelloy and the rest, and 
go as ' twere to apprehend Vittoria, 

35 fate. ABC, face. 

Dumbe Shetu (6) complement. BCD, they complement. 
Dumbe Sheiv (13) comes. D, come. (14) commands. D, 
command. 



56 Wf^t Wi^itt WMl [Act II. 

Brach. 'Twas quaintly done; but yet each 
circumstance 
I tast not fully. 

Con. O 'twas most apparant. 

You saw them enter, charged with their deepe 

helthes 
To their boone voyage ; and to second that, 
Flamineo cals to have a vaulting horse 
Maintaine their sport. The vertuous Marcello 
Is innocently plotted forth the roome ; 
Whilst your eye saw the rest, and can informe 

you 
The engine of all. 

Brach. It seemes Marcello and Flamineo 
Are both committed. 

Co^' Yes, you saw them guarded ; 

And now they are come with purpose to appre- 
hend 
Your mistresse, faire Vittoria. Wee are now 
Beneath her roofe : 'twere fit we instantly 
Make out by some backe posterne. 

Brach. Noble friend, 

You bind me ever to you : this shall stand 
As the firme seale annexed to my hand. 
It shall inforce a payment. 

40 charged. D, charg'd. 

51 friend. A puts a period after thia 



Scene II.] (K^f OT^tte SDetjll 57 

Con. Sir, I thanke you. 

Exit Brac[hiano.'\ 
Both flowers and weedes spring when the sunne 

is warme, 55 

And great men do great good, or else great harme. 

Exit Con\_jurer.~\ 

Exit Brachiano. Follows hand in ABC for typographical rea- 
sons } placed as here in D. 



[Act III, Scene i.] 

\^Rome. Monticelso' s Palace.~\ 

Enter Francisco and MonticelsOy their Chancellor and 
Register. 

Francisco. You have dealt discreetly to obtaine 
the presence 
Of all the grave leiger embassadours 
To heare Vittorias triall. 

Monti celso. *Twas not ill ; 

For sir, you know we have nought but circum- 
stances 
To charge her with, about her husbands death ; 
Their approbation therefore to the proofes 
Of her blacke lust shall make her infamous 
To all our neighbouring kingdomes. I wonder 
If Brachiano will be here. 

Fran. O fye ! 

'Twere impudence too palpable. \Exeunt.'\ 

Enter Flamineo and Mar cello guarded^ and a Lawyer, 

Lawyer. What, are you in by the weeke ? so, 
I will try now whether thy wit be close pris- 

Act III, etc. D, Seen. 2. ; Symonds, Act 2, Sc, iv. Mr. Greg 
suggests that this and the two following scenes are in Francisco's 
palace. 

10 ^Tivere . . . palpable. Ends preceding line in Qq. 

1 1 fVhat. ABC have no punctuation after ivhat. 



Scene I] ^1)0 W£^tt SDetWl 59 

oner. Mee thinke's none should sit upon thy 
sister but old whoore-maisters. 

Flamineo. Or cocoulds ; for your cocould is 15 
your most terrible tickler of letchery : whoore- 
maisters would serve, for none are judges at 
tilting, but those that have bene old tilters. 

Law. My lord duke and shee have bene very 
private. 20 

Flam. You are a dull asse ; 'tis threatned they 
have bene very publicke. 

Law. If it can be proved they have but kist 
one another — 

Flam. What then ? 25 

Law. My lord cardinall will ferit them. 

Flam. A cardinall, I hope, will not catch 
conyes. 

Law. For to sowe kisses (marke what I say), 
to sowe kisses is to reape letchery ; and I am 30 
sure a woman that will endure kissing is halfe 
won. 

Flam. True, her upper part by that rule ; if 
you will win her nether part to[o], you know 
what followes. 35 

Law. Harke, the embassadours are lighted. 

Flam. I do put on this feigned garbe of mirth, 
To gull suspition. 

34 too. D corrects. 37 / . . . suspition. D notes this speech 
as an aside. 38 gull. B, gall. 



6o turtle Mtiite SDebil [act m. 

Marcello. O my unfortunate sister ! 

I would my daggers point had cleft her heart 
When she first saw Brachiano. You, 'tis said, 
Were made his engine, and his stauking horse. 
To undo my sister. 

Flam. I made a kind of path 

To her & mine owne preferment. 

Mar. Your ruine. 

Flam. Hum ! thou art a souldier, 
Followest the great duke, feedest his victories, 
As witches do their serviceable spirits, 
Even with thy prodigall bloud : what hast got. 
But like the wealth of captaines, a poore hand- 
full. 
Which in thy palme thou bear'st, as men hold 

water ? 
Seeking to gripe it fast, the fraile reward 
Steales through thy fingers. 

Mar. Sir ! 

Flam. Thou hast scarce maintenance 

To keepe thee in fresh shamoyes. 

Mar. Brother ! 

Flam. Heare me, — 

And thus when we have even powred our selves, 
Into great fights, for their ambition 

42 / made. BCD, followed by Dyce, I am a. 

45 Follotoest . . . feedest. D, FoUow'st . . . feed'st. 
53 poivred. D^ poured. 



Scene I] tB^^f Wii^itt SDetJll 6 1 

Or idle spleene, how shall we find reward ? 55 

But as we seldome find the mistle-towe 
Sacred to physicke, or the builder oke. 
Without a mandrake by it ; so in our quest of 

gaine. 
Alas, the poorest of their forcM dislikes 
At a limbe proffers, but at heart it strikes ! 60 

This is lamented doctrine. 

Afar. Come, come. 

Flam. When age shall turne thee, 
White as a blooming hauthorne — 

Mar. Vie interrupt you. 

For love of vertue beare an honest heart, 
And stride over every polliticke respect, 65 

Which, where they most advance, they most 

infect. 
Were I your father, as I am your brother, 
I should not be ambitious to leave you 
A better patrimony. 

Flam. rie think on't. Enter Savoy. 

The lord embassadors. 70 

Here there is a passage of the Lieger Embassadours 
over the Stage severally. Enter French Em- 
bassadour. 

Law. O my sprightly Frenchman ! Do you 
know him ? he's an admirable tilter. 

55 reiuard. C, rewards. 

69-70 A . . . embauadon. One line in ABC. 



62 ^\)t Wi\)itt SDebil [Act III. 

F/am. I saw him at last tilting : he shewed 
like a peuter candlesticke fashioned like a man 
in armour, houlding a tilting stafFe in his hand, 
little bigger then a candle of twelve i' th 
pound. 

Law. O but he's an excellent horseman. 

Flam. A lame one in his lofty trickes ; hee 
sleepes a horsebacke like a poulter. 

Enter English and Spanish \_Ambassadors.~\ 

Law. Lo you, my Spaniard ! 

Flam. He carries his face in's ruffe, as I have 
scene a serving-man carry glasses in a cipres 
hat-band, monstrous steddy, for feare of break- 
ing. He lookes like the claw of a blacke-bird, 
first salted and then broyled in a candle. Exeunt. 

[Scene ii.] 
[Rome. The Hall in Monticelso' s Palace. '\ 
The Araignement of Vittoria 
Enter FranciscOy Monticelso, the sixe lieger Embassa- 
dours, Brachianoy Vittoriay \Flamineo, Mar- 
cello^ Lawyer y and a Guard. 

Monticelso. Forbeare, my lord, here is no place 
assign'd you ; 

Enter English ^ etc. Qq omit Ambassadors, 

Scene ii. This ensuing scene is marked in A (followed by 
BCD), The Araignement of Vittoria. D indicates no new 
scene. Symonds marks Act III, Sc. i. 

Enter Francisco, etc. Isabella's name appears in ABC, but not 
in D. 



Scene II] Xf^^t Wi\)itt 'S^Ml 63 

This businesse by his holinesse is left 
To our examination. 

Brachiano, May it thrive with you ! 

Laies a rich gowne under him, 

Francisco, A chaire there for his lordship ! 

Brack. Forbeare your kindnesse : an un- 
bidden guest / 5 
Should travaile as Dutch-women go to church, 
Beare their stooles with them. 

Mont. At your pleasure, sir. 

Stand to the table, gentlewoman. Now signior, 
Fall to your plea. 

Lawyer. Domine Judex convert e oculos in banc 10 
pestem mulierum corruptissimam. 

Vittoria. Whats he ? 

Fran. A lawyer, that pleades against you. 

Vti. Pray my lord, let him speake his usuall 
tongue ; 
He make no answere else. 

Fran. Why, you understand Lattin. 

Vit. I do, sir, but amongst this auditory 15 

Which come to heare my cause, the halfe or 

more 
May bee ignorant in*t. 

Mont. Go on, sir. 

3 To our. BC, to your. AD, to our. 
8 gentlenvoman. ABC, gentlewomen. 
10 Domine . . . corruptissimam. This speech is not assigned in A. 



64 ©tie WWte 2Dei3il [act m. 

^Jf* By your favour, 

1 will not have my accusation clouded 
In a strange tongue : all this assembly 
Shall heare what you can charge mee with 

V ^''^''* . Signior, 

You need not stand on't much; pray change 
your language. 
Mont. Oh for God sake! Gentlewoman, 
your credit 
Shall bee more famous by it. 

f ^«^- Well then, have at you I 

Vit, I am at the marke, sir : He give aime to 
you. 
And tell you how neare you shoote. 

Law, Most literated judges, please your lord- 
ships. 
So to connive your judgements to the view 
Of this debausht and diversivolent woman. 
Who such a blacke concatenation 
Of mischiefe hath eiFected, that to exterpe 30 

The memory oft, must be the consummation 
Of her and her projections — 

Vit. What's all this ? 

Law. Hould your peace. 
Exorbitant sinnes must have exulceration. 

20, 21 Slgnior language. In the B. M. copy of A, defective 
impression makes these Big and languav 
29 blacke. BCD omit. 



Scene II] ^^t OT^ltf WMl 65 

Fit. Surely, my lords, this lawier here hath 
swallowed 35 

Some poticaryes bils, or proclamations ; 
And now the hard and undegestable wordes 
Come up like stones wee use give haukes for 

phisicke. 
Why, this is Welch to Lattin. 

Law, My lords, the woman 

Know's not her tropes nor figures, nor is perfect 40 
In the accademick derivation 
Of grammaticall elocution. 

Fran, Sir, your paynes 

Shall bee well spared, and your deepe eloquence 
Bee worthely applauded amongst those 
Which understand you. 

Law, My good lord — 

Fran, Sir, 45 

Put up your papers in your fustian bag, — 
Cry mercy sir, tis buckeram, — and 

Francisco speakes 
acc p ^j^-^ ^^ -^ scorne. 

My notion of your learn'd verbosity. 

Law, I most graduatically thanke your lord- 
ship. 
I shall have use for them elswhere. 50 

Mont. I shall bee playner with you, and paint 
out 

35 here. BCD omit. 36 poticaryes. BCD, apothecaries. 

Similarly in 11. 68 and 105. 40 nor figures. BCD omit. 

50 Query : Exit Lawyer. 



66 ®t)e mUtt SDeljil [Act III. 

Your folies in more naturall red and white, 
Then that upon your cheeke. 

^^^' , O you mistake. 

You raise a blood as noble in this cheeke 
As ever was your mothers. 

Mont. I must spare you till proofe cry whore 
to that. 
Observe this creature here, my honoured lords, 
A woman of a most prodigious spirit 
In her effected. 

^^^' Honorable my lord. 

It doth not sute a reverend cardinal! 
To play the lawier thus. 

Mont. Oh your trade instructs your language ! 
You see my lords what goodly fruict she seemes: 
Yet like those apples travellers report 
To grow where Sodom and Gomora stood, 
I will but touch her, and you straight shall see 
Sheele fall to soote and ashes. 

^^^' Your invenom'd 

roticary should doo't. 

^o^f' I am resolved, 

Were there a second Paradice to loose. 
This devell would betray it. 

able^D" Lord"f '''''■ ^^ °'"''' ^''"'^''^^' «y- B, My honor- 

67-68 Tour. . . doo't. One line in Qq. resoi'ved. D puts a 
pcnod after this word. ^ 



1 



Scene II] ^^0 WlSi^itt WMl 67 

Fit. O poore charity ! 70 

Thou art seldome found in scarlet. 

Mont, Who knowes not how, when severall 

night by night 
Her gates were choakM with coaches, and her 

roomes 
Out-brav'd the stars with severall kind of lights. 
When shee did counterfet a princes court ? 75 

In musicke, banquets and most ryotous sur- 

fets, 
This whore, forsooth, was holy. 

Vit. Ha ! whore ? what's that ? 

Mont. Shall I expound whore to you ? sure, 

I shal; 
He give their perfect character. They are first, 
Sweete meates which rot the eater; in mans 

nostrill 80 

PoisonM perfumes ; they are coosning alcumy, 
Shipwrackes in calmest weather. What are 

whores ? 
Cold Russian winters, that appeare so barren. 
As if that nature had forgot the spring. 
They are the trew matteriall fier of hell, 85 

Worse then those tributes ith low countries 

payed. 
Exactions upon meat, drinke, garments, sleepe, 
I even on mans perdition, his sin. 

80 nostrill. BCD, nostrils. 



68 tE^^t WiWt Wt\}ii [Act III. 

They are those brittle evidences of law 
Which forfait all a wretched mans estate 
For leaving out one sillable. What are whores ? 
They are those flattering bels have all one 

tune, 
At weddings, and at funerals. Your ritch whores 
Are only treasuries by extortion fild. 
And empted by curs'd riot. They are worse, 5j 
Worse then dead bodies, which are beg'd at gal- n 
lowes, I 

And wrought upon by surgeons, to teach man ' 
Wherin hee is imperfect. Whats a whore ? 
Shees like the guilty conterfetted coine 
Which, who so eare first stampes it, bring [s] 

in trouble loa 

All that receave it. j 

^^^- This carracter scapes me. I 

Mont. You, gentlewoman ? 
Take from all beasts, and from all mineralls 
Their deadly poison — i 

Fit. Well, what then ? 

Mont. He tell thee; 

He find in thee a poticaries shop, 105 

To sample them all. 

French Ambassador. Shee hath lived ill. j 

English Ambassador. Trew, but the cardinals 
too bitter. 

96 at. BCD, at th'. 99 the guilty. BCD, the gilt. 



Scene IL] tH^^t W^^t V^Ml 69 

Mont, You know what whore is : next the 
devell, Adultry, 
Enters the devell. Murder. 

Fran. Your unhappy 

Husband is dead. 

Fit. O hees a happy husband, no 

Now hee owes nature nothing. 

Fran. And by a vaulting engine. 

Mont. An active plot, 

Hee jumpt into his grave. 

Fran. What a prodigy wast. 

That from some two yardes height a slender 

man 
Should breake his necke ! 

Mont. Ith' rushes ! 

Fran. And what's more, 115 

Upon the instant loose all use of speach. 
All vitall motion, like a man had laine 
Wound up three dayes. Now marke each cir- 
cumstance. 

Mont. And looke upon this creature was his 
wife. 
Shee comes not like a widow ; shee comes arm*di2o 
With scorne and impudence. Is this a mourn- 
ing habit ? 

108 ts. Qq have no pause after this, knoiv ivhat, etc. D, You 
know a Whore is next the Devil : Adultery Enters, the Devil and 
Murder, no Husband ends preceding line in Qq. 

114 height. BCD, high. 



70 tB^t OT^ite 2r>et3il [act m. 

Fit. Had I forknowne his death, as you sug- 
gest, 
I would have bespoke my mourning. 

Mont. O you are conning. 

Fit. You shame your wit and judgement 
To call it so. What, is my just defence 12 

By him that is my judge cal'd impudence ? 
Let mee appeale, then, from this Christian court 
To the uncivill Tartar. 

Mont. See, my lords ! 

Shee scandals our proceedings. 

Fit. Humbly thus. 

Thus low, to the most worthy and respected ij 
Leigier embassadors, my modesty 
And womanhood I tender ; but withall 
So intangled in a cursed accusation. 
That my defence, of force, like [Portia's] , 
Must personate masculine vertue to the point. 13 
Find mee but guilty, sever head from body : 
Weele part good frindes : I scorne to hould my 

life 
At yours or any mans intreaty, sir. 

£ng. Jmb. Shee hath a brave spirit. 

Mont. Well, well, such counterfet jewels 140 
Make trew [ones] oft suspected. 

123 conning. B, cunning. 129 thus. A puts a period after Ma5. 

134 Portia' i. Qq, Perseus. Mitford, according to Dyce, con- 
jectured Portia ; according to Hazlitt, Portia's. Cf. note, p. 193. 

135 vertue to. Dyce, virtue. To. 141 onei. A, on's. 



J 



Scene II. ] ^^^t Ml)ite SDetJll 7 1 

Fit. You are deceaved. 

For know that all your strickt combined heads, 
Which strike against this mine of diamondes, 
Shall prove but glassen hammers, they shall 

breake. 
These are but faigned shadowes of my evels : 145 
Terrify babes, my lord, with painted devils, 
I am past such needlesse palsy. For your names 
Of whoore and murdresse, they proceed from 

you. 
As if a man should spit against the wind ; 
The filth returne's in's face. 150 

Mont. Pray you, mistresse, satisfy me one 
question : 
Who lodg'd beneath your roofe that fatall night 
Your husband brake his necke ? 

Brack. That question 

Inforceth me breake silence : I was there. 

Mont. Your businesse ? 

Brack. Why, I came to comfort her, 155 

And take some course for setling her estate. 
Because I heard her husband was in debt 
To you, my lord. 

Mont, He was. 

Brack. And 'twas strangely fear'd 

That you would cosen her. 

Mont, Who made you over-seer ? 

Brack. Why, my charity, my charity, which 
should flow 160 



72 tD^^e Wi^tt SDebil [act m. 

From every generous and noble spirit 
To orphans and to widdows. 

Mont. Your lust. 

Brack. Cowardly dogs barke loudest. Sirrah 
priest, 

He talke with you hereafter, — do you heare ? 
The sword you frame of such an excellent 

temper, i6 

Pie sheath in your owne bowels. , 

There are a number of thy coate resemble 
Your common post-boyes. 

Mont. Ha ! 

Brack. Your mercinary post-boyes : 
Your letters carry truth, but 'tis your guise 17* 
To fill your mouths with grosse and impudent 

lies. , 

Servant. My lord, your gowne. | 

Brack. Thou liest, 'twas my stoole. 

Bestow't upon thy maister, that will challenge 
The rest a'th houshold-stuffe ; for Brachiano 
Was nere so beggarly, to take a stoole 17! 

Out of anothers lodging : let him make 
Valence for his bed on't, or a demy foote- 

cloth. 
For his most reverent moile. Monticelso, 
Nemo me impune lacessit. Exit Brachiano. 

173 maister. A has no punctuation after this word. 

1 78 moile. Qq have a comnna only after moile. 

179 lacessit. A, lacescit. 



Scene II.] ^^t Wi^t 'SI>t\)il 73 

Mont. Your champions gon. 

Fit. The wolfe may prey the better. 180 

Fran. My lord, there's great suspition of the 
murder, 
But no sounde proofe who did it. For my part, 
I do not thinke she hath a soule so blacke 
To act a deed so bloudy ; if shee have, 
As in cold countries husband-men plant vines, 185 
And with warme bloud manure them, even so 
One summer she will beare unsavory fruite. 
And ere next spring wither both branch and 

roote. 
The act of bloud let passe ; onely descend 
To matter of incontinence. 

Fit. I decerne poison, 190 

Under your guilded pils. 

Mont. Now the duke's gone, I wil produce 
a letter. 
Wherein 'twas plotted, [he] and you should meete 
At an appoticaries summer-house, 
Downe by the river Tiber, — veiw't, my lords, — 195 
Where, after wanton bathing and the heat 
Of a lascivious banquet — I pray read it, 
I shame to speake the rest. 

Fit. Grant I was tempted. 

Temptation to lust proves not the act : 
Casta est quam nemo rogavit. aoo 

193 he and you. AB, her and you. 



j 



74 ®^e Mtlite 2Debil [act m. 

You reade his hot love to me, but you want 
My frosty an s were. 

Mont, Frost i'th dog-daies ! strange . 

Vit, Condemne you me for that the duke did 
love mee ? 
So may you blame some faire and christall river 
For that some melancholike distracted man 205 
Hath drown'd himselfe in't. 

Mont. Truly drown'd indeed. 

Vit. Summe up my faults I pray, and you 
shall finde 
That beauty and gay clothes, a merry heart. 
And a good stomacke to [a] feast, are all, 
All the poore crimes that you can charge me with. 210 
Infaith, my lord, you might go pistoll flyes,— 
The sport would be more noble. 

Mont, Very good. 

Vit. But take you your course : it seemes you |l 
have beggerd me first, ■ 

And now would faine undo me. I have houses, 
Jewels, and a poore remnant of crusado's, 215 

Would those would make you charitable. 

Mont. If the devill 

Did ever take good shape, behold his picture. 

Vit. You have one vertue left, — you will not 
flatter me. 

Fran. Who brought this letter ? 

209 to a. Dyce added the a. 213 take you. Query : omit j;oa, 
218-219 Tou ivill . . . letter f One line in Qq. 



Scene II. ] tB\)t Wi^tt WtM 75 

Fit. I am not compel'd to tell you. 

Mont, My lord duke sent to you a thousand 
duckets, Z20 

The twelfth of August. 

Vit. 'Twas to keepe your cosen 

From prison : I paid use for't. 

Mont. I rather thinke 

'Twas interest for his lust. 

Vit. Who saies so but your selfe ? if you bee 
my accuser, 
Pray cease to be my judge, come from the bench, 225 
Give in your evidence 'gainst me, and let these 
Be moderators. My lord cardinall. 
Were your intelligencing eares as loving 
As to my thoughts, had you an honest tongue 
I would not care though you proclaimed them all. 230 

Mont. Go to, go to. 
After your goodly and vaine-glorious banquet, 
rie give you a choake peare. 

Vit. A' your owne grafting ? 

Mont. You were borne in Venice, honourably 
descended 
From the Vitelli ; 'twas my cossins fate, — 235 
111 may I name the hower, — to marry you ; 
Hee bought you of your father. 

Vit. Ha ! 

Mont. Hee spent there in sixe monthes, 
Twelve thousand dukets, and to my acquaint- 
ance 



76 tBi^t WiUtt 2r>ebil [Act III. 

Receiv'd in dowry with you not one julio : 240 

'Twas a hard peny-worth, the ware being so 

light. 
I yet but draw the curtaine now to your picture : 
You came from thence a most notorious strum- 
pet, 
And so you have continued. 

Fit. My lord, — 

Mont, Nay heare me ; 

You shall have time to prate. My Lord Bra- 

chiano — 24s ! 

Alas I make but repe[ti]tion 
Of what is ordinary and Ryalto talke, 
And ballated, and would bee plaid a'th stage. 
But that vice many times findes such loud 

freinds, 
That preachers are charmM silent. »5<: 

You gentlemen, Flamineo and Marcello, 
The court hath nothing now to charge you with, 
Onely you must remaine upon your suerties, j 

For your appearance. j 

Fran. I stand for Marcello. J 

Fiam. And my lord duke for me. 255 

Mont. For you, Vittoria, your publicke fault, 
Joyn'd to'th condition of the present time. 
Takes from you all the fruits of noble pitty ; 

242 curtaine. D puts a comma, Dyce a semi-colon after this 
word. 249 loud freinds. B, lou'd {i.e. lov'd) friends. 



Scene II. ] ©1)0 WJ^lte 2DeWl 7 7 

Such a corrupted triall have you made 
Both of your life and beauty, and bene stil'd a6o 
No lesse [an] ominous fate then biasing starres 
To princes : heare your sentence j you are con- 
fined 
Unto a house of convertites and your baud — 

Flam. Who, I? 

Mont, The Moore. 

Flam, O I am a sound man againe. 

Vit, A house of co [n] vertites ! what's that ? 

Mont, A house 265 

Of penitent whoores. 

Vit. Do the noblemen in Rome 

Erect it for their wives, that I am sent 
To lodge there ? 

Fran, You must have patience. 

Vit. I must first have vengeance. 

I faine would know if you have your salvation 270 
By patent, that you proceed thus. 

Mont. Away with her ! Take her hence. 

Vit. A rape, a rape ! 

Mont, How ? 

Vit. Yes, you have ravisht justice, 

Forc't her to do your pleasure. 

261 an. A, in. 262 princes: heare. A, princes heares j 

Dyce conjectures, here's. Barely possible is : princes heires. 

263 This line is assigned in AB to Vittoria. BCD, converts. 

264 Who^ If This, and the next speech of Flamineo, are 
marked as asides by Dyce. 265 con-vertites. BCD, converts. 
A house begins following line in Qq. 



78 Wf)t OTJite SDetJil [act m 

Mont. Fy, shee's mad ! 

Fit. Dye with these pils in your most cursed 
mawe, 2 

Should bring you health ! or while you sit a*th 

bench, 
Let your owne spittle choake you ! 

Mont. She*s turn'd fury. 

Fit. That the last day of judgement may so 

find you, 

And leave you the same devill you were before ! 

Instruct me, some good horse-lech, to speak 

treason ; 2 

For since you cannot take my life for deeds. 
Take it for wordes : O womans poore revenge, 
Which dwels but in the tongue ! I will not 

weepe, — 
No, I do scorne to call up one poore teare 
To fawne on your injustice : beare me hence %% 
Unto this house of — what's your mittigating 
title ? 
Mont. Of convertites. 
Fit. It shal not be a house of convertites ; 
My minde shall make it honester to mee 
Then the Popes pallace, and more peaceable 2 
Then thy soule, though thou art a cardinall : 

275 these. D, those. matve. A, mawes. 
285 on your. A, one your. 
287, 288 convertites. BCD, converts. 
291 Then thy. CD, Then my. 



Scene II.] XE^t Wi\)itt SDetjU 79 

Know this, and let it somewhat raise your spight, 
Through darkenesse, diamonds spred their 
ritchest light. £xit Fit tor ia. 

Enter Brachiano. 
Brachiano. Now you and I are friends, sir, 
wee'le shake hands 
In a friends grave, together ; a fit place, 295 

Being the embleme of soft peace, t' attone our 
hatred. 
Fran. Sir, what's the matter ? 
Brach, I will not chase more bloud from that 
lov'd cheeke ; 
You have lost too much already, fare-you-well. 

\Exit.'\ 
Fran. How strange these words sound ! 

what's the interpretation ? 300 

Flam. \_aside.'j Good; this is a preface to 
the discovery of the dutches death : hee carries 
it well. Because now I cannot counterfeit a 
whining passion for the death of my lady, I will 
faine a madde humor for the disgrace of my sis- 305 
ter, and that will keepe off idle questions. Trea- 
sons tongue hath a villanous palsy in't ; I will 
talk to any man, heare no man, and for a time 
appeare a polliticke mad-man. \_Exit.'] 

Exit Vittoria. Dyce adds : Lawyer, and Guards. D here marks 
Act. 3. Seen. 3, 

307 hath a. BCD, with a. 



80 tET^e Wii^itt mtUl [Act III. 

£^Ur Giovanni, Count Lodovico. 
Fran. How now, my noble cossin ! what, in 

blacke ? 3,„ 

Giovanni. Yes, unckle, I was taught to imi- 
tate you 
In vertue, and you must imitate mee 
In couloures of your garments : my sweete mo- 
ther 
Is— 

Fran. How ? where ? 

Giov. Is there ; no, yonder ; indeed sir, He 

not tell you, 2,- 

For I shall make you weepe. i 

P^^^' Is dead. I 

Giov. Do not blame me now, I 

I did not tell you so. 

Lodovico. She's dead, my lord. 

Fran. Dead ! 

Mont. Blessed lady ; thou art now above 

thy woes ! 
Wilt please your lordships to with-draw a little ? 320 

\Exeunt Ambassadors. '\ 

Giov. What do the dead do, uncle ? do they 

eate, 

Heare musicke, goe a hunting, and bee merrie, 

As wee that live ? 

Enter . . . Lodo'vico. Dyce adds : and Attendant. 

Ill you must. Mr. Swinburne has suggested : you now must. 

319 thou . . . ivoes. Separate line in Qq. 

323 As . . . live. Ends preceding Ime in Qq. 



scKNE II.] ®|)e mbitt SDebil 8i 

Fran. No, cose ; they sleepe. 
Giov. Lord, Lord, that I were dead ! 

I have not slept these sixe nights. When doe 

they wake ? 3^5 

Fran. When God shall please. 
Giov. Good God let her sleepe ever ! 

For I have knowne her wake an hundreth 

nights. 
When all the pillow, where shee laid her head, 
Was brine-wet with her teares. I am to com- 

plaine to you, sir. 
He tell you how they have used her now shees 

dead : 330 

They wrapt her in a cruell fould of lead. 
And would not let mee kisse her. 

Fran. Thou didst love her. 

Giov. I have often heard her say shee gave 
mee sucke. 
And it should seeme by that shee deerely lov'd 

mee. 
Since princes seldome doe it. 335 

Fran. O, all of my poore sister that re- 
maines ! 
Take him away, for Gods sake ! 

[^Exeunt Giovanni, Lodovico, and Marcello.'\ 
Mont. How now, my lord ? 

326 Good . . . ever. This speech is assigned to Fran, in AB. 

327 hundreth. D, hundred. 



82 tB^t WiUtt mMl [Act III. 

Fran. Beleeve mee, I am nothing but her 
grave, 
And I shall keepe her blessed memorie 
Longer then thousand epitaphs. 

[^Exeunt Francisco and Monticelso.'X \ 

[Scene iii.] 
{Rome, Monticeho's Pa lace. '\ 
Enter Flamineo as distracted. 

Flamineo. Wee indure the strokes like anviles 
or hard Steele, 
Till paine it selfe make us no paine to feele. 
Who shall doe mee right now ? is this the end 
of service ? Ide rather go weede garlicke ; tra- 
vaile through France, and be mine owne ostler ; 
weare sheepe-skin lininges ; or shoos that stinke 
of blacking; bee entred into the Hst of the four- 
tie thousand pedlars in Poland. 

Enter Savoy ^ \Mar cello and Lodovico.'\ 
Would I had rotted in some surgeons house at 
Venice, built upon the pox as well as on piles, 
ere I had serv'd Brachiano ! j 

Savoy Ambassador. You must have comfort. 

Flam. Your comfortable wordes are like 
honie : they rellish well in your mouth that's j 
whole; but in mine that's wounded they go j 
downe as if the sting of the bee were in them. I 



Scene III.] tlTlie Mljtte V^Ml 83 

Oh they have wrought their purpose cunningly, 
as if they would not seeme to doe it of malice ! 
In this a polititian imitates the devill, as the 
devill imitates a canon : wheresoever he comes 20 
to doe mischiefe, he comes with his backside 
towardes you. 

Enter the French [Ambassador. "^ 

French Ambassador. The proofes are evident. 

Flam. Proofe ! 'twas corruption. O gold, 
what a god art thou ! and O man, what a devill 45 
art thou to be tempted by that cursed minerall ! 
You[r] diversivolent lawyer, marke him ; knaves 
turne informers, as maggots turne to flies ; you 
may catch gudgions with either. A cardinal ! I 
would hee would heare mee : theres nothing so 30 
holie but mony will corrupt and putrifie it, like 
vittell under the line. You are happie in Eng- 

\Enter E~\nglish [Ambassa~\dor. 
land, my lord ; here they sell justice with those 
weights they presse men to death with. O hor- 
rible salarie ! 35 

English Ambassador. Fie, fie, Flamineo ! 

[Exeunt Ambassadors. ~\ 

Flam. Bels nere ring well, till they are at 

17 your. ABC, You. 

Enter . . . Ambassador. In clipped margin of A is : nglish dor ; 
nothing in BCD. 

Exeunt^ etc. Supplied by Dyce. 



84 ®^e Wl^ite SDetJil [act m. 

their full pitch ; and I hope yon cardinall shall 
never have the grace to pray well till he come to 
the scaffold. If they were rackt now to know 
the confederacie ! But your noblemen are privi- 
ledged from the racke ; and well may, for a 
little thing would pull some of them a peeces 
afore they came to their arraignement. Reli- 
gion : oh how it is commeddled with policie ! 
The first bloudshed in the world happened about 
religion. Would I were a Jew ! 

Mar cello. O, there are too many. 

Flam. You are deceiv'd : there are not Jewes 
enough, priests enough, nor gentlemen enough. 

Mar. How ? 

Flam. He prove it. For if there were Jewes 
enough, so many Christians would not turne 
usurers ; if preists enough, one should not have 
sixe benefices ; and if gentlemen enough, so 
many earlie mushromes, whose best growth 
sprang from a dunghill, should not aspire to 
gentilitie. Farewell. Let others live by begging. 
Bee thou one of them ; practize the art of Wol- 
nor in England, to swallow all's given thee ; and ( 
yet let one purgation make thee as hungrie againe 
as fellowes that worke in [a] saw-pit. He go 
heare the scritch-owle. Exit. 

59 of them. Dyce puts no stop between rAcw and /ramze. 



Scene III.] ^^0 W!3i\)itt WMl 85 

Lodovico. This was Brachiano*s pandar, and 
'tis strange 
That, in such open and apparant guilt 65 

Of his adulterous sister, hee dare utter 
So scandalous a passion. I must wind him. 
Enter Flamineo. 
Flamineo. "^aside^ How dares this banisht 
count returne to Rome, 
His pardon not yet purchast ? I have heard 
The deceast dutchesse gave him pension, 70 

And that he came along from Padua 
Pth' traine of the yong prince. There's some- 
what in't : 
Phisitians, that cure poisons, still doe worke 
With counterpoisons. 

Mar. Marke this strange incounter. 

Flam. The god of melancholie turne thy gall 
to poison, 75 

And let the stigmaticke wrincles in thy face. 
Like to the boisterous waves in a rough tide, 
One still overtake an other. 

Lod. I doe thanke thee, 

• And I doe wish ingeniously for thy sake 
The dog-daies all yeare long. 

Flam. How crokes the raven \ 80 

Is our good dutchesse dead ? 

Lod. Dead. 

64—67 Thh . . . -wind Aim. Dyce marks this speech as an aside. 



86 tE^tje WiWt 2DeWl [Act m. 

Flam. O fate ! 

Misfortune comes like the crowners businesse, 
Huddle upon huddle. 

Lod. Shalt thou & I joyne housekeeping ? 

F/am. Yes, content. 

Let's bee unsociably sociable. 

Lod. Sit some three dales together, and dis- 
course. 

Flam. Onely with making faces ; lie in our 
clothes. 

Lod. With faggots for our pillowes. 

F/am. And bee lowsie. 

Lod. In taffeta lininges ; that's gentile melan- 
cholie : 
Sleepe all day. 

Flam. Yes : and, like your melancholike hare, 
Feed after midnight. 
Wee are observed : see how yon couple greve ! 

Lod. What a strange creature is a laughing 
foole ! 
As if man were created to no use 
But onely to shew his teeth. 

F/am. He tell thee what : 

It would doe well, in stead of looking glasses. 
To set ones face each morning by a sawcer 
Of a witches congealed bloud. 

84 SAalt. D, Shall. 87 He . . . clotha. Begins following line 
in Qq. 89 gentile. Dyce, genteel 

98 by a. BCD, by the. 



Scene III.] tH^j^C Mtjlte WtM 87 

Lod. Pretious gue. 

Weel never part. 

Flam. Never: till the beggerie of courtiers, 100 
The discontent of church-men, want of souldiers, 
And all the creatures that hang manacled. 
Worse then strappado'd, on the lowest fellie 
Of fortunes wheele, be taught, in our two lives, 
To scorne that world which life of meanes de- 
prives. 105 
Enter Anto?ielli \_and Gasparo."] 
Antonelli. My lord, I bring good newes. The 
Pope, on's death-bed, 
\t th' earnest suit of the great Duke of Florence, 
Hath sign'd your pardon, and restor'd unto you — 
Lod. I thanke you for your news. Look up 
againe, 
^'lamineoj see my pardon. 

Flam. Why do you laugh? no 

There was no such condition in our covenant. 
Lod. Why ? 

Flam. You shall not seeme a happier man 
then I ; 
f ou know our vow, sir ; if you will be merry, 

99 gue. A (B. M. copy), Pretious grine rouge ; B, and some 
opies of A (Dyce), Pretious gue ; CD, Precious Rogue. The 
uzzling reading of A (B. M. copy) may possibly be explained thus: 
rtne, a clerical error for gue or gueux, changed without erasure to 
ogue, which was then misprinted rouge. 

Enter y etc. Follows ii'ves in Qq. 



88 ®l|e mUtt Deljil [Act III. I 

Do it i'th like posture as if some great man 
Sate while his enemy were executed : 
Though it be very letchery unto thee, 
Doo't with a crabbed polititian's face. 

Lod, Your sister is a damnable whore. 

F/am. Ha ! 

Lod. Looke you ; I spake that laughing. 

Flam. Dost ever thinke to speake againe ? 

Lod. Do you heare ? 

Wil't sel me fourty ounces of her bloud, 
To water a mandrake ? 

Flam. Poore lord, you did vow 

To live a lowzy creature. 

Lod. Yes. 

F/am. Like one 

That had for ever forfaited the day-light 
By being in debt. 

Lod. Ha, ha ! 

F/am. I do not greatly wonder you do 
breake : 
Your Lordship learn't long since. But He tell 
you — 

Lod. What? 

F/am. And't shall sticke by you — 

Lod. I long for it. 

F/am. This laughter scurvily becomes your 
face. 

117 crabbed. BCD, sabby. 



Scene III.] tETlje WSi^^itt SDetJll 89 

If you will not be melancholy, be angry. 130 

See, now I laugh too. Strikes him. 

Mar, You are to blame : He force you hence. 

Lod, Unhand me ! Exit Mar. ^ Flam, 

That ere I should be forc't to right my selfe 
Upon a pandar ! 

Anto. My lord ! 

Lod. H'had bene as good met with his fist 
a thunderbolt. , 13S 

Gasparo. How this shewes ! 

Lod. Uds* death, how did my sword 

misse him ? 
These rogues that are most weary of their lives 
Still scape the greatest dangers, 
A pox upon him ! all his reputation, 
iNay, ail the goodnesse of his family, 140 

Is not worth halfe this earthquake ! 
I learnt it of no fencer to shake thus : 
Come, rie forget him, and go drinke some wine. 

Exeunt, 



[Act IV, Scene i.] 
^Rome. Francisco* s Palace.'^ 
Enter Francisco and Monticelso. 
Monticeho. Come, come, my lord, untie your 
foulded thoughts. 
And let them dangle loose as a brid[e]'s haire. 
Your sister's poisoned. 

Francisco. Farre bee it from my thoughts 

To seeke revenge. 

Mont. What, are you turn'd all marble ? 

Fran. Shall I defye him, and impose a warre 
Most burthensome on my poore subjects neckes, 
Which at my will I have not power to end ? 
You know, for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, 
Committed in the horred lust of warre. 
He that unjustly caus'd it first proceed, ; 

Shall finde it in his grave and in his seed. 

Mont. That's not the course I'de wish you : || 
pray, observe me : 
We see that undermining more prevailes 
Then doth the canon. Beare your wrongs con 

ceal'd. 
And, patient as the tortoise, let this cammell 

Act IV ^ Scene i. D, Act. 3. Seen. 4. 
12 observe me. CD, omit me. 



Scene I. ] XE^t Mlftitf WMl 9 1 

Stalke o're your back unbruis'd : sleep with the 

lyon, 
And let this brood of secure foolish mice 
Play with your nosthrils, till the time bee ripe 
For th' bloudy audit and the fatall gripe : 
Aime like a cunning fowler, close one eie, 20 

That you the better may your game espy. 

Fran. Free me, my innocence, from treach- 
erous actes ! 
I know ther's thunder yonder : and I'le stand 
Like a safe vallie, which low bends the knee 
To some aspiring mountaine : since I know 25 
Treason, like spiders weaving nets for flies, 
By her foule worke is found, and in it dies. 
To passe away these thoughts, my honoured 

lord, — 
It is reported you possesse a booke 
Wherein you have quoted, by intelligence, 30 

The names of all notorious offenders 
Lurking about the citty. 

Mont. Sir, I do ; 

And some there are which call it my blacke 

booke : 
Well may the title hold : for though it teach 

not 
The art of conjuring, yet in it lurke 35 

The names of many devils. 

Fran. Pray let's see it. 



92 tETI^e Wi\)itt SDetJil [act iv. 

Mont. Pie fetch it to your lordship. 

Exit Monticeho. 
Fran. Monticelso, 

I'le not trust thee ; but in all my plots 
rie rest as jealous as a towne besieg'd. 
Thou canst not reach what I intend to act. 
Your flax soone kindles, soone is out againe. 
But gold slow heats, and long will hot re- 
maine. 

Enter Mont \_ue/so,'] presents Era [ndsco] with a 

booke. 
Monticeho. 'Tis here, my lord. 
Fran. First your intelligencers pray let's see. 
Mont. Their number rises strangely, and 
some of them 
You'd take for honest men. Next are pandars : 
These are your pirats : and these following 

leaves, 
For base rogues that undo yong gentlemen 
By taking up commodities : for pollitick bank- 

roupts : 
For fellowes that are bawdes to their owne 

wives, 
Onely to put off horses, and slight jewels, 

38 I'le. BCD, I wiU. 
presents^ etc. Added by BCD. 

45-46 In A the lines end in urangely^ them, men, pandars. 
Query : for and iome read io/we, and for Next read And next. 



scKNE I] ap^f m'^itt 2E>et3il 93 

Clockes, defac't plate, and such commodities, 
At birth of their first children. 

Fran. Are there such ? 

Mont. These are for impudent baudes. 
That go in mens apparell : for usurers 55 

That share with scriveners for their good re- 
portage : 
For lawyers that will antedate their writtes : 
And some divines you might find foulded there ; 
But that I slip them o're for conscience sake. 
Here is a generall catalogue of knaves : 60 

A man might study all the prisons o're. 
Yet never attaine this knowledge. 

Fran. Murderers — 

Fould downe the leafe I pray. 
Good my lord, let me borrow this strange doc- 
trine. 

Mont. Pray use't, my lord. 

Fran. I do assure your lordship, 65 

You are a worthy member of the state, 
And have done infinite good in your discovery 
Of these offendors. 

Mont. Some-what, sir. 

Fran. O God ! 

Better then tribute of wolves paid in England. 
'Twill hang their skinnes o'th hedge. 

Mont. I must make bold 7° 

To leave your lord-ship. 



94 ^^t mUtt 3ar>et3il [act iv. 

Fran. Deerely, sir, I thanke you ; 

If any aske for me at court, report 
You have left me in the company of knaves. 

Exif Mont[icelso.'\ 
I gather now by this, some cunning fellow 
That's my lords officer, one that lately skipt 
From a clerkes deske up to a justice chaire. 
Hath made this knavish summons ; and in- 

tendes, 
As th' Irish rebels wont were to sell heads, 
So to make prize of these. And thus it happens, 
Your poore rogues pay for't, which have not 

the meanes 
To present bribe in fist : the rest o'th' band 
Are raz*d out of the knaves record ; or else 
My lord he winkes at them with easy will ; 
His man growes rich, the knaves are the knaves 

still. 
But to the use I'le make of it ; it shall serve 
To point me out a [list] of murderers, 
Agents for any villany. Did I want 
Ten leash of curtisans, it would furnish me ; 

71 Deerely. B, Deere ; CD, Dear. 

75 one that. A (B. M. copy), and that. Dyce indicates that 
some copies of A read one that. So BCD. 

76 justice. BCD, Justices. 

78 ivont ivere. BCD, were wont. 80 not the. BCD omit the. 

86 list. A (B. M. copy), life. Dyce queries misprint for file, 

which is improbable. BCD, list, and, Dyce says, some copies of A. 



scENit I] tlT^ie M^ite SDetJil 95 

Nay, lawndresse three armies. That so little 

paper 
Should be th' undoing of so many men ! 9° 

'Tis not so big as twenty declarations. 
See the corrupted use some make of bookes : 
Divinity, wrested by some factious bloud, 
Draws swords, swels battels, & orethrowes all 

good. 
To fashion my revenge more seriously, 95 

Let me remember my dead sisters face : 
Looke for her picture : no ; Pie close mine eyes, 
And in a melancholicke thought I'll frame 
Enter Isabela' s Ghost, 

Her figure 'fore me. Now I d'foot how 

strong 
Imagination workes! how she can frame 100 

Things which are not ! me thinks she stands 

afore me ; 
And by the quicke idea of my minde, 
Were my skill pregnant, I could draw her pic- 
ture. 

89 That so , . . should be. BCD, and some copies of A (Dyce), 
That in so . . . lye th' undoing. The reading of the text is that 
of the B, M. copy of A. 

97 looke for. BCD, call for. Some copies of A have looke for 
(Dyce) ; so the B. M. copy. 

99 Noiv . . . dfoot. B, Now I — hav't; CD, Nowl hav't — . 
Dyce reads, ha't : — and notes : some copies of A have dfoot. 
Query : Her figure 'fore me now — uds foot how strong. 



96 tETtie OTtiite 2r>et3il [act iv. 

Thought, as a subtile jugler, makes us deeme 
Things supernaturall which [yet] have cause 
Common as sickenesse. 'Tis my melancholy. 
How cam'st thou by thy death? — how idle 

am I 
To question mine owne idlenesse I — did ever 
Man dreame awake till now? — Remove this 

object ! 
Out of my braine with't ! what have I to do u 
With tombes, or death-beds, funerals, or teares, 
That have to meditate upon revenge ? 

[Exit Ghost.'] 
So now 'tis ended, like an old wives story. 
States-men thinke often they see stranger sights 
Then mad-men. Come,tothis waighty businesse. i| 
My tragedy must have some idle mirth in't. 
Else it will never passe. I am in love. 
In love with Corombona ; and my suite 
Thus haltes to her in verse. He writes, 

I have done it rarely : O the fate of princes ! i» 
I am so us'd to frequent flattery, 
That, being alone, I now flatter my selfe 
But it will serve ; 'tis seal'd. Beare this 

Enter Servant. 
To th' house of convertites ; and watch your 
leisure 

105 which yet. CD, supply j't/. 119 He iv rites. This, in A, 
follows 1. 121. iz^ con'vertites. BCD, converts. 



Scene II.] XE^}^t OTI^tte WMl 97 

To give it to the hands of Corombona, 125 

Or to the matron, when some followers 
Of Brachiano may be by. Away ! £xit Servant, 
He that deales all by strength, his wit is shallow : 
When a mans head goes through, each limbe 

will follow. 
The engine for my busines, bold Count Lodo- 

wicke : 130 

'Tis gold must such an instrument procure ; 
With empty fist no man doth falcons lure. 
Brachiano, I am now fit for thy encounter : 
Like the wild Irish, Tie nere thinke thee dead, 
Till I can play at footeball with thy head. 135 

Flectere si nequeo superos^ Acheronta movebo. 

Exit. 

[Scene ii.] 

[Rome. The House of Convertites.'^ 
Enter the Matron and Flamineo. 

Matron. Should it be knowne the duke hath 
such recourse 
To your imprison'd sister, I were like 
T' incur much damage by it. 

Flamineo. Not a scruple. 

132 man doth. BC, man do. 

Exit. ABC, exit Mon. C adds : The end of the Third Act. 

Scene it. C, Act 4. D, Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. 



98 grtie WXUtt SDebil [act iv. 

The Pope lies on his death-bed, and their heads j 
Are troubled now with other businesse 
Than guarding of a ladie. 

E^Ur Servant. 

Servant. Yonder's Flamineo in conference 
With the matrona. Let mee speake with you. 
I would intreat you to deliver for mee 
This letter to the faire Vittoria. 

Matron. I shall, sir. 

Serv. With all care and secrecie; 

Hereafter you shall know mee, and receive 
Thankes for this curtesie. lExitl 

^J^^' How now? what's that? 

Matron. A letter. 

Flam. To my sister : He see't delivered. 

Enter Brachiano. 

Brach'tano. What's that you read, Flamineo ? 

^^^^- Looke. 

1 o the most unfortunate, his best respected 
Vittoria. — Who was the messenger ? 

Flam. I know not. 

^^^^'^^ No ! Who sent it ? 

Flam. Ud's foot, you speake as if a man 

xo faire Vittoria. AB have here : Enter Brachiano : C omits 
the direction, and D places it as here given. 
15-17 Hal . . . Vittoria. One line in Qq. 






scEN£ II.] XEJ\)t Wii^itt 2Det)il 99 

Should know what foule is coffind in a bak't 

meate *° 

Afore you cut it up. 

Brack. He open't, were't her heart. What's 
heere subscribed ! 
Florence ? This jugling is grosse and palpable. 
I have found out the conveyance. Read it, 
read it. 
Flam. Tour teares He turne to triumph es., 

bee but mine. Reades the 

Tour prop is fair n; I pittie that a vine ^««'^''- 

Which princes heretofore have long'd to gather^ 
Wanting supporters^ now should fade and wither. 
Wine, yfaith, my lord, with lees would serve 

his turne. 
Tour sad imprisonement He soone uncharme^ 3° 

j^nd with a princelie uncontrolled arme 
Lead you to Florence., where my love and care 
Shall hang your wishes in my silver haire. 
A halter on his strange aequivocation ! 
Nor for my yeares returne mee the sad willow : 35 

Who prefer bios somes before fruit that's mellow ? 
Rotten, on my knowledge, with lying too long 

i'th bed-straw. 
And all the lines of age this line convinces : 
The gods never wax old., no more doe princes. 

23 Florence? Ends preceding line in Qq. 

36 mellow ? The Qq put a period after melloiu. 



L.»fC 



100 tE^t Wif)itt WMl [Act IV. 

A pox on't, teare it, let's have no more atheists, 4 
For Gods sake. 

Brach. Udsdeath, He cut her into atomies 
And let th' irregular north-winde sweepe her up 
And blow her int' his nosthrils ! Where's this 
whore ? 
F/am. What ? what doe you call her ? 
^^^^^- Oh, I could bee mad, 4 

Prevent the curst disease shee'l bring mee to, ^ 
And teare my haire of [f ] ! Where's this change- i 
able stufFe? 
Flam. Ore head and eares in water, I assure 
you, 
Shee is not for your wearing. 

Brach. No, you pandar ? 

F/am. What, mee, my lord ? am I your dog ? 50 
Brack. A bloud-hound : doe you brave ? doe 

you stand mee ? 
Flam. Stand you ? let those that have diseases 
run ; 
I need no plaisters. 

Brack. Would you bee kickt ? 

40-41 A . . . sake. One line in Qq. 
42 atomies. B, atomes ; CD, atoms. 

45 What ? -what. BC, That ? what. D follows A, as here. 
Dyce over-ingeniously reads : That ivhat do you call her ? 

49 No, you. Some copies of A ( Dyce), In you ; B, Ee'n vou : 
CD, You ! Pandar ! /» ^ » » / , 

50 What, mee. D, What of me. 
53 plaisters. BCD, plaister. 



Scene II. ] XEI^t Wi^itt WMl lOI 

Flam. Would you have your necke broke ? 
I tell you, duke, I am not in Russia j 55 

My shinnes must be kept whole. 

Brach, Do you know mee ? 

Flam. O my lord ! methodically. 

As in this world there are degrees of evils. 
So in this world there are degrees of devils. 
You'r a great duke ; I your poore secretarie. 60 
I doe looke now for a Spanish fig, or an Italian 
sallet daily. 

Brach. Pandar, plie your convoy, and leave 
your prating. 

Flam. All your kindnesse to mee is like that 
miserable curtesie of Polyphemus to Ulisses ; 65 
you reserve mee to be devoured last : you would 
dig turves out of my grave to feed your larkes ; 
that would bee musicke to you. Come, Tie lead 
you to her. 

Brach. Do you face mee ? 70 

Flam. Sir, I would not go before a pol~ 
litique enemie with my backe towards him, 
though there were behind mee a whirlepoole. 

[^Exeunt. '\ 

71 Sir. BCD and some copies of A (Dyce) read : sir. 



102 griie «J)ite 2DeDtl [act iv. 

[Scene iii.] 

[Another Room in the House of ConvertitesA 

Enter Vittoria to Brachiano and Flamineo, 

Brachiano, Can you read, mistresse ? looke 
upon that letter : 
There are no characters nor hieroglyphicks. 
You need no comment ; I am growne your re- 
ceiver. 
Gods pretious, you shall bee a brave great ladie, 
A statelie and advanced whore ! 

Vittoria. Say, sir? 

Brack. Come, come, let's see your cabinet, 
discover 
Your treasurie of love-letters. Death and fu- 
ries. 
He see them all ! 

Vit. Sir, upon my soule, 

I have not any. Whence was this directed ? 

Brach. Confusion on your politicke ignorance! i 
You are reclaimed, are you ? He give you the 

bels 
And let you flie to the devill. 

Flamineo. Ware hawke, my lord. 

Vit. Florence ! This is some treacherous plot, 
my lord ; 

Scene iii. Hazlitt first marked a new scene here. 



Scene III] ^|^0 WSi^itt SDebll 1 03 

To mee he nere was thought on, I protest, 
So much as in my sleepe. 

^^^^^' Right : they are plots. 15 

Your beautie ! O, ten thousand curses on't ! 
How long have I beheld the devill in christall ? 
Thou hast lead mee, like an heathen sacrifice. 
With musicke, and with fatall yokes of flowers 
To my eternall ruine. Woman to man 20 

[s either a god or a wolfe. 

^^t' My lord— 

Brach. Away ' 

Wee'l bee as differing as two adamants ; 
The one shall shunne the other. What ? do'st 

weepe ? 
Vocure but ten of thy dissembling trade, 
'WJee'ld furnish all the Irish funeralls 25 

kVith howling, past wild Irish. 

^^^^' Fie, my lord ! 

Brach. That hand, that cursed hand, which 
I have wearied 
A^ith doting kisses ! O my sweetest dutchesse 
low lovelie art thou now ! [My] loose thoughtes 
matter like quicke-silver. I was bewitch'd ; 30 

''or all the world speakes ill of thee. 

14 ivas thought on. BC, was lovely. Dyce notes thought on 
I some copies of A : so the B. M. copy. 

25 WeeUd. A (B. M.), ee'ld ; B, Wee'l j C, Weel : D, 
/e'l 5 Dyce, Ye'd. ' ' 

29 My loose. ABC, Thy loose. 



104 ^¥ Mtiite SDetJil [act iv. 

f^jf^ No matter. 

He live so now, He make that world recant 
And change her speeches. You did name your 
dutchesse. 

Brach, Whose death God pardon ! 

^//. Whose death God revenge; 

On thee, most godlesse duke ! 

Flam. Now for ten whirlewindes.l 

Fit. What have I gain'd by thee but infamie ?| 
Thou hast stain'd the spotlesse honour of myj 

house, 
And frighted thence noble societie : 
Like those, which sicke o'th' palsie, and retaine 
Ill-senting foxes 'bout them, are still shun'd 
By those of choicer nosthrills. What doe you 

call this house ? 
Is this your palace ? did not the judge stile it 
A house of penitent whores? who sent me 

to it ? 
Who hath the honour to advance Vittoria 
To this incontinent colledge ? is't not you ? 
Is't not your high preferment ? Go, go brag 
How many ladies you have undone like mee. 
Fare you well, sir •, let me heare no more of you 
I had a limbe corrupted to an ulcer. 
But I have cut it off: and now I'le go 

35 for ten. BCD, for the; Dyce, for two, foUowing 'sor 
copies' of A. A (B. M.) as here. 



Scene III] ^^t M^tte WtUl IO5 

Weeping to heaven on crutches. For your 

giftes, 
I will returne them all ; and I do wish 
That I could make you full executor 
To all my sinnes : O that I could tosse my selfe 
Into a grave as quickly ! for all thou art worth 55 
He not shed one teare more : — He burst first. 

S/ie throwes her selfe upon a bed. 

Brack, I have drunke Lethe. Vittoria ! 
My dearest happinesse ! Vittoria ! 
What doe you aile, my love? why doe you 
weepe ? 

Fit. Yes, I now weepe poniardes, doe you 
see. 60 

Brack. Are not those matchlesse eies mine ? 

^it- I had rather 

They were not matches. 

Brack. Is not this lip mine ? 

Fit. Yes : thus to bite it off, rather than give 
it thee. 

Flam. Turne to my lord, good sister. 

^'^^^ Hence, you pandar ! 

Flam. Pandar! am I the author of your 
! sinne ? 65 

I Fit. Yes: hee's a base theif that a theif 
I lets in. 

57 Vittoria. Begins next line in Qq. 

62 matches. B, matchles j CD, Dyce, HazUtt, matchless. 



io6 ®^e M^ite SDetJil [act iv. 

Flam. Wee're blowne up, my lord. 

Brach. Wilt thou heare mee ? 

Once to bee jealous of thee, is t' expresse 
That I will love thee everlastingly, 
And never more bee jealous. 

Vit. O thou foole, 

Whose greatnesse hath by much oregrowne thy 

wit ! 
What dar'st thou doe that I not dare to suffer, 
Excepting to bee still thy whore ? for that. 
In the seas bottome sooner thou shalt make 
A bonefire. 

Flam. O, no othes, for Gods sake ! 

Brach. Will you heare mee ? 

Vit. Never. 

Flam. What a damn*d impostume is a womans 
will! 
Can nothing breake it ? — Fie, fie, my lord ! 
Women are caught as you take tortoises ; 
Shee must bee turn'd on her backe. — Sister, by 

this hand, 
I am on your side. — Come, come, you have 

wrong'd her. 
What a strange credulous man were you, my 

lord. 
To thinke the Duke of Florence would love her ! 
Will any mercer take an others ware 

83 noould. Some copies of A (Dyce), could. 






Scene III] ^^^ Wif^itt EDetJll IO7 

When once 't is tows'd and sullied ? — And yet, 

sister, 85 

How scurvily this frowardnesse becomes you ! 
Yong leverets stand not long; and womens 

anger 
Should, like their flight, procure a little sport ; 
A full crie for a quarter of an hower ; 
And then bee put to th' dead quat. 

Brach. Shall these eies, 90 

Which have so long time dwelt upon your face. 
Be now put out ? 

F/am. No cruell land-lady i'th' world. 

Which lends forth grotes to broome-men, & 

takes use for them. 
Would doe*t. 

Hand her, my lord, and kisse her: be not like 95 
A ferret, to let go your hold with blowing. 
Brack. Let us renew right handes. 
^^>- Hence ! 

j Brack. Never shall rage, or the forgetfull wine, 
JMake mee commit like fault. 

Flam. Now you are ith' way ont, follow't 

hard. 100 

Brack, Bee thou at peace with mee ; let all 
the world 
Threaten the cannon. 

Flam. Marke his penitence. 

Best natures doe commit the grossest faultes. 



I 



1 08 tiri^e W3i\)itt 2E>ebil [act iv. 

When they're giv'n ore to jealosie ; as best wine,| 
Dying, makes strongest vinneger. He tell you : ] 
The sea's more rough and raging than calme 

rivers, 
But not so sweet nor wholesome. A quiet 

woman 
Is a still water under a great bridge. 
A man may shoot her safely. 

p^it. O yee dissembling men ! 

Fiam. Wee suckt that, sister, 

From womens brestes, in our first infancie. 

Fit. To ad miserie to miserie ! 

Brack. Sweetest, — 

Vit. Am I not low enough ? 
I, I, your good heart gathers like a snow-ball. 
Now your affection's cold. 

Flam. Ud'foot, it shall melt* 

To a hart againe, or all the wine in Rome 
Shall run o'th lees for't. 

Vit. Your dog or hawke should be rewarded 
better 
Then I have bin. He speake not one word more. 

Flam. Stop her mouth with a sweet kisse, 
my lord. So, i 

Now the tide's turne'd, the vessel's come about. 

108 ha... bridge. CD, Is like a . . . under London- Bridge. 

Iio-lll pyee . . . infancie. One line in (j^q. 

120 Stop . . . lord. Two lines in Qq, ending in mouthy Lord. 



Scene III] ®l)e M^te WMl IO9 

Hee*s a sweet armefull. O wee curl'd-haird men 
Are still most kind to women ! This is well. 

Brach. That you should chide thus ! 

Flam. O, sir, your little chimnies 

Doe ever cast most smoke ! I swet for you. 125 
Couple together with as deepe a silence, 
As did the Grecians in their wodden horse. 
My lord, supplie your promises with deedes. 
Tou know that painted meat no hunger feedes, 

Brach. Stay ingratefull Rome. 

Flam. Rome! it deserves 130 

To be calM Barbaric, for our villainous usage. 

Brach. Soft; the same project which the 
Duke of Florence, 
(Whether in love or gullerie I know not) 
Laid downe for her escape, will I pursue. 

Flam. And no time fitter than this night, my 
lord: 135 

The Pope being dead ; and all the cardinals 

entred 

The conclave for th' electing a new Pope; 
The cittie in a great confusion ; 
Wee may attire her in a pages suit. 
Lay her post-horse, take shipping, and amaine 140 
For Padua. 

130 Stay ingratefull Rome. AB, Stay ingratefull Rome. 
C, Stay ingratefiil Rome. D, Stay, ingrateful Rome ! Dyce 
queries : Stay in ingrateful Rome ! 

1 30-3 1 Rome ! . . . usage. One line in Qq. 



1 10 tCtie Ml)ite 2Det)il [act iv. 

Brach. He instantly steale forth the Prince 
Giovanni, 
And make for Padua. You two with your old 

mother, 
And yong Marcello, that attendes on Florence, 
If you can worke him to it, follow mee. 
I will advance you all : for you, Vittoria, 
Thinke of a dutchesse title. 

Flam. Lo you, sister ! 

Stay, my lord ; Pie tell you a tale. The croco- 
dile, which lives in the river Nilus, hath a 
worme breds i'th teeth oPt, which puts it to ( 
extreame anguish : a little bird, no bigger then a 
wren, is barbor-surgeon to this crocodile ; flies 
into the jawes oft ; pickes out the worme ; and 
brings present remedy. The fish, glad of ease, 
but ingratefull to her that did it, that the bird 5 
may not talke largely of her abroad for non 
payment, closeth her chaps, intending to swal- 
low her, and so put her to perpetuall silence. 
But nature, loathing such ingratitude, hath 
arm'd this bird with a quill or pricke on the head, 
top o'th which wounds the crocodile i'th mouth ; 
forceth her open her bloudy prison ; and away 

14a He instantly . BCD omit //^. 

148-164 A definite rhythmical movement is discernible here and 
there in this speech, but it is hardly possible to print the speech 
otherwise than as the prose in which it appears in Qq. 

161 heady top o^th lu hie h. CD, head top, which. 



(I 



Scene IV. ] ^J^f^t Wi^Ut W>t\)i\ 1 1 1 

flies the pretty tooth-picker from her cruell 
patient. 

Brach. Your application is, I have not re- 
warded 165 
The service you have done me. 

F/am» No, my lord : 

You, sister, are the crocodile : you are blemisht 
in your fame, my lord cures it. And though 
the comparison hold not in every particle ; yet 
observe, remember, what good the bird with the 170 
pricke i'th head hath done you ; and scorne in- 
gratitude. 

It may appeare to some ridiculous iJside.'\ 

Thus to talke knave and madman; and sometimes 
Come in with a dried sentence, stuft with sage. 175 
But this allowes my varying of shapes. 
Knaves do grow great by being great mens apes. 

Exeunt, 

[Scene iv.] 

\Rome, Without the VaticanJ\ 

Enter Francisco^ Lodovicoy Gasper, and sixe Em- 
bass a dour s, 

Francisco. So, my lord, I commend your dili- 
gence. 
Guard well the conclave ; and, as the order is, 
Let none have conference with the cardinals. 

Scene iv. D, Act. 4. Seen. 2. Enter . . . Embassadours. AB 
add : At another dore the Duke of Florence. 



112 turtle M^iicr mt\)ii [act iv. 

Lodovico. I shall, my lord. Roome for the 

embassadors ! 
Gasparo. They're wondrous brave to day : 

why do they weare 
These severall habits ? 

L°^' O sir, they'r knights 

Of severall orders. 

That lord i'th blacke cloak with the silver crosse 
Is Knight of Rhodes; the next. Knight of S. 

Michael ; 
That, of the Golden Fleece ; the French-man 

there. 
Knight of the Holy-Ghost ; my lord of Savoy 
Knight of th' Annuntiation ; the Englishman 
Is Knight of th' honoured Garter, dedicated 
Unto their samt, S. George. I could describe 

to you 
Their severall institutions, with the lawes 
Annexed to their orders, but that time 
Permits not such discovery. 

Fran. Where's Count Lodowicke ? 

Lod. Here, my lord. 

Fran. 'Tis o'th point of dinner time ; 

Marshall the cardinals service. 

L'^' Sir, I shall. 

Enter Servants with severall dishes covered. 
Stand, let me search your dish : who's this for ? '- 

ao dish. Query : dishes. 



Scene IV] tETJ^e M^ite WMi 1 1 3 

Servant. For my Lord Cardinall Monticelso. 

Lod, Whose this ? 

Serv, For my Lord Cardinall of Burbon. 

French Ambassador, Why doth he search the 
dishes ? to observe 
What meate is drest ? 

English Ambassador. No, sir, but to prevent, 
Least any letters should be convei'd in »5 

To bribe or to sollicite the advancement 
Of any cardinall. When first they enter 
'Tis lawfull for the embassadours of princes 
To enter with them, and to make their suit 
For any man their prince afFecteth best ; 3° 

But after, till a generall election. 
No man may speake with them. 

Lod. You that attend on the lord cardinals, 
Open the window, and receive their viands. 

A Cardinal. \From the window^ You must 
returne the service; the L. cardinals 35 
Are busied 'bout electing of the Pope ; 
They have given o're scrutinie, and are fallen 
To admiration. 

Lod. Away, away. 

Fran. Pie lay a thousand duckets you here 
news A Cardinal on the Tarras, 

23 dishes. A puts a comma after dishes. 

35 the L. CD, the Lord. 36 ^bout. CD, about. 

38 admiration. Query : adoration. 



1 14 tCl^e Mtjite SDelJil [act iv. 

Of a Pope presently. Hearke; sure, he's 

elected. 
Behold ! my Lord of Arragon appeares, 
On the church battlements. 

Arragon. Denuntio vohis gaudium magnum, 
Reverendhsimus Cardinalis Lorenso de Monti- 
celso electus est in sedem Jpostolicam., & elegit sibi 
nomen Paulum ^artum. 

Omnes. Vivat sanctus Pater Paulus partus. 

{Enter Servant^ 
Servant. Vittoria, my lord, — 
Pran. Wei: what of her? 

Serv. Is fled the citty^ — 
Fran. Ha ! 

^^rv. With Duke Brachlano. 

Fran. Fled ? Where's the Prince Giovanni ? 
^^r'"' Gone with his father. 

Fran. Let the matrona of the convertites 
Be apprehended ! Fled ? O damnable ! 

\_Exit Servant.'] 
How fortunate are my wishes ! why, 'twas this 
I onely laboured. I did send the letter 
T' instruct him what to doe. Thy fame, fond 

duke, 
I first have poison'd ; directed thee the way 

43 Denuntio. BCD, Annuntio. 

51 matrona. BC, matron e ; D, matron, convertites. BCD, 
converts. 



i 



Scene IV. ] XE\it Wi\)itt WMl 1 1 5 

To marrie a whore : what can be worse ? 
This followes : 

The hand must act to drowne the passionate 
tongue. 

I scorne to weare a sword and prate of wrong. 
Enfer Monticelso in state. 
Mont'icelso. Concedimus vobis Jpostolicam bene- 60 

dict'ionem ^ remissionem peccatorum. 

My lord reportes Vittoria Corombona 

Is stol'ne from forth the house of convertites 

By Brachiano, and they're fled the cittie. 

Now, though this bee the first daie of our seate, 65 

Wee cannot better please the divine power, 

Than to sequester from the holie church 

These cursed persons. Make it therefore 
knowne. 

Wee doe denounce excommunication 

Against them both : all that are theirs in Rome 70 

Wee likewise banish. Set on. 

Exeunt \_MonticelsOy his train, Ambassadorsy d9*f.] 
Fran, Come, deare Lodovico, 

You have tane the sacrament to prosecute 

Th' intended murder. 

Enter Monticelso. D, Act. 4. Seen. 3. 

60 Concedimus, etc. The benediction is not given in some copies 
of A (Dyce). 61 peccatorum. A, peccatorem. 

63 converfites. BCD, converts. 65 seate. So A (B. M.), B j 
CD, scat ; Dyce reads state, and notes seat in some copies of A. 

Exeunt . . . Ambassadors. The (^q have only Exeunt. 



1 1 6 tECJie m^itt WMl [Act IV. 

Lod. With all constancie. 

But, sir, I wonder you'l ingage your selfe 
In person, being a great prince. 

Fran. Divert mee not. 

Most of his court are of my faction, 
And some are of my councell. Noble freind. 
Our danger shall be 'like in this designe. 
Give leave, part of the glorie may bee mine. 

Exit Fran. \and Gasparo.~\ 
Enter Monticelso. 
Monticeho. Why did the Duke of Florence 
with such care 
Labour your pardon ? say. 

Lod. Italian beggars will resolve you that. 
Who, begging of an almes, bid those they beg 

of 
Doe good for their owne sakes ; or 't may bee 
Hee spreades his bountie with a sowing hand. 
Like kinges, who many times give out of mea- 
sure ; 
Not for desert so much as for their pleasure. 
Mont. I know you're cunning. Come, what 
devill was that 
That you were raising? 

78 'like. D, like. 

80 Monticeho. Some copies of A give this speech to Francisco 
(Dyce). B. M. copy as in text. 

83 beg of. ABC here repeat the direction for Monticelso' s en- 
trance. 



I 



Scene IV.] (J^^e Wii^Ut SDetjll 1 1 7 

Lod. Devill, my lord ? 

Mont, I aske you, 

How doth the duke imploy you, that his bonnet 90 
Fell with such complement unto his knee. 
When hee departed from you ? 

Lod. Why, my lord, 

Hee told mee of a restie Barbarie horse 
Which he would faine have brought to the 

carreere. 
The sault, and the ring galliard. Now, my lord, 95 
I have a rare French rider. 

Mont. Take you heede 

Least the jade breake your necke. Doe you put 

mee off 
With your wild horse-trickes ? Sirra, you doe 

lie. 
O, thou'rt a foule blacke cloud, and thou do'st 

threat 
A violent storme. 

Lod, Stormes are i'th aire, my lord : 100 

I am too low to storme. 

Mont, Wretched creature ! 

I know that thou art fashion'd for all ill, 
Like dogges, that once get bloud, they'l ever 

kill. 
About some murder ? wa'st not ? 

Lod, He not tell you; 

89 I aike you. Assigned to Lod, in AB. 95 sault. Qq, 'sault. 



1 1 8 tB\)t Wliite 2E>et3il [act iv. 

And yet I care not greatly if I doe. 105 

Marry, with this preparation. Holie father, 

I come not to you as an intelligencer, 

But as a penitent sinner. What I utter I 

Is in confession meerely ; which you know 

Must never bee reveal'd. 

Mont, You have oretane mee. lie 

Lod. Sir, I did love Brachiano's dutchesse 

deerely ; 
Or rather I pursued her with hot lust. 
Though shee nere knew on't. Shee was poy- 

son'd ; 
Upon my soule shee was : for which I have 

sworne 
T* avenge her murder. 

Mont, To the Duke of Florence ? 115 

Lod. To him I have. j 

Mont. Miserable creature ! 

If thou persist in this, 'tis damnable. 
Do'st thou imagine thou canst slide on bloud 
And not be tainted with a shamefull fall ? 
Or like the blacke and melancholicke Eugh- 

tree, 120 

Do'st thinke to roote thy selfe in dead mens 

graves. 
And yet to prosper ? Instruction to thee 
Comes like sweet showers to over-hardned 

ground : 



Scene I V. ] ^^t Wi^tt SDetJll 1 1 9 

They wet, but peirce not deepe. And so I leave 

thee 
With all the furies hanging 'bout thy necke, 125 
Till by thy penitence thou remove this evill, 
In conjuring from thy breast that cruell devill. 

Exii Mon[ticelso.'\ 
Lod. rie give it o're. He sales 'tis damn- 
able : 
Besides I did expect his suffrage, 
By reason of Camillo's death. 130 

Enter Servant ^ Francisco. 
Francisco. Do you know that count ? 
Servant. Yes, my lord. 

Fran. Beare him these thousand duckets to 
his lodging ; 
Tell him the Pope hath sent them. Happily 
That will confirme [him] more then all the 
rest. [^Exit.~\ 

Serv. Sir — 

Lod. To me, sir ? 135 

Serv. His Holinesse hath sent you a thousand 
crownes. 
And wils you, if you travaile, to make him 
Your patron for intelligence. 

Lod. His creature ever to bee commanded. 

[^Exit Servant. ~\ 

125 TFith all. AB, WithaU. 

133 Happily. D, Haply. 134 him. First added by Dyce. 

137 ivili. A, will. 



1 20 Wi)t Wi^itt 2Debil [act iv. 

Why now 'tis come about. He railM upon me ; 

And yet these crownes were told out and laid 
ready, 

Before he knew my voiage. O the art, 

The modest forme of greatnesse ! that do sit 

Like brides at wedding dinners, with their looks 
turn'd 

From the least wanton jests, their puling stom- 
acke ' 

Sicke of the modesty, when their thoughts are 
loose, 

Even acting of those hot and lustfull sports 

Are to ensue about midnight : such his cunning ! 

Hee soundes my depth thus with a golden plum- 
met. 

I am doubly arm'd now. Now to th* act of I 
bloud. 

There's but three Furies found in spacious hell ; 

But in a great mans breast three thousand dwell. 

[Exit.] 

145 jests. BCD, jest. 

150 arm^d . . . M' act. Query : arm'd. Now to the act of 
bloud. 



[Act V. Scene i.] 

[PaJua. Brachiano^s Palace. '\ 

A passage over the stage of Brachiano, Flamineo, 

Marcelloy Hortensio, Corombonay Cornelia, 

Zanche and others. \_Then re-enter Flamineo 
and Hortensio.'\ 

Flamineo. In all the weary minutes of my life, 
Day nere broke up till now. This mariage 
Confirmes me happy. 

Hortensio. 'Tis a good assurance. 

Saw you not yet the Moore that's come to court ? 

Flam. Yes, and confer'd with him i'th dukes 
closet. 
I have not scene a goodlier personage, 
Nor ever talkt with man better experienc't 
In state-afFares or rudiments of warre. 
Hee hath, by report, serv'd the Venetian 
In Candy these twice seven yeares, and bene 

cheife 
n many a bold designe. 

Hort. What are those two 

That beare him company ? 

Flam. Two noblemen of Hungary, that living 
n the emperour's service as commanders, eight 

Act V. D, Act. 4. Seen. 4. 



122 W^t OT^icr SDetJil [act v. 

yeares since, contrary to the expectation of all 
the court, entred into religion, into the strickt 
order of Capuchins : but being not well setled 
in their undertaking, they left their order and 
returned to court : for which, being after troubled 
in conscience, they vowed their service against 
the enemies of Christ; went to Malta; were 
there knighted ; and in their returne backe, at 
this great solemnity, they are resolved for ever 
to forsake the world, and settle themselves here 
in a house of Capuchines in Padua. 

Hort. 'Tis strange. 

Flam, One thing makes it so. They have : 
vowed for ever to weare next their bare bodies; 
those coates of maile they served in. 

Hort. Hard penance ! Is the Moore a Chris- ^ 
tian ? 

Flam. Hee is. 

Hort. Why proffers hee his service to our" 
duke ? 

Flam. Because he understands ther's like toi 
grow 
Some warres betweene us and the Duke of Flor- 
ence, 
In which hee hopes imployment. 
I never saw one in a sterne bold looke 

■^O Hard penance ! A separate line in (^q. -^^ nvarres. B, warre^ 
CD, war. 35 At this point AB note : Enter Duke Brachiano. 



Scene I] ^l\t WJlf)itt WMi 1 23 

Weare more command, nor in a lofty phrase 
Expresse more knowing, or more deepe contempt 
Of our slight airy courtiers. Hee talkes 
As if hee had travail'd all the princes courts 4° 
Of Christendome ; in all things strives t* ex- 
presse. 
That all that should dispute with him may know. 
Glories, like glow-wormes, a farre off shine 

bright. 
But lookt to neare, have neither heat nor light. 
The duke ! 45 

Enter Brachiano, Florence disguised like Mulinas- 
sar ; Lodovico [^disguised as Carlo] , Antonelli, 
Caspar [<? disguised as Pedro] , \_Marcello'\ , bear- 
ing their swordes and helmets, 

Brachiano. You' are nobly welcome. Wee 
have heard at full 
Your honourable service 'gainst the Turke. 
To you, brave Mulinassar, wee assigne 
A competent pension : and are inly [sorrie,] 
The vowes of those two worthie gentlemen, 50 
Make them incapable of our profFer'd bountie. 
Your wish is you may leave your warlike swordes 

Florence disguised, i. e. Francisco. A gives Farnese after Gas- 
pare^ but this must be Marcello, whose exit is given later. Dyce 
marks the entrance of Carlo and Pedro as if they were actual charac- 
ters 5 they are, however, only the names assumed by Lodovico and 
Gasparo in their disguise. No disguise is indicated for Antonelli. 
D marks Act. 4. Seen. 5. 49 sorrie. A, sorrow. 



1 24 Wi^t OT^ite SDebil [ act v. 

For monuments in our chappell. I accept it 

As a great honour done mee, and must crave 

Your leave to furnish out our dutchesse revells. 

Onely one thing, as the last vanitie 

You ere shall view, denie mee not to stay 

To see a barriers prepar'd to night ; 

You shall have private standings. It hath pleas'd 

The great ambassadours of severall princes. 

In their returne from Rome to their owne 

countries. 
To grace our marriage, and to honour mee 
With such a kind of sport. 

Francisco. I shall perswade them 

To stay, my lord. 

[^Brach.'j Set on there to the presence ! 

Exeunt Brachiano, FlamineOy and Mar cello 
[and Hortensio'\. 

Lodovico. Noble my lord, most fortunately 
wellcome ! T^he Conspirators here imbrace. 
You have our vowes, seal'd with the sacrament, 
To second your attempts. 

Gasparo. And all thinges readie. 

Hee could not have invented his owne ruine. 
Had hee despair'd, with more proprietie. 

62 our. B, your. 64 Set on . . . presence. Qq assign this to 
Francisco ; Dyce to Brachiano. b^ Lodo'vico. A, Carlo. 

67 Gasparo. A, Pedro. 6<) more propriety. CD, more dexterity. 
A omits comma after despaired. 



Scene I. ] ^^t WiWt SD^bil 1 25 

Lod. You would not take my way. 

Fran. 'Tis better ordered. 70 

Lod. T' have poison'd his praier booke, or a 
paire of beades, 
The pummell of his saddle, his looking-glasse, 
Or th' handle of his racket, — O that, that ! 
That while he had bin bandying at tennis. 
He might have sworne himselfe to hell, and 

strooke 75 

His soule into the hazzard ! O my lord ! 
I would have our plot bee ingenious. 
And have it hereafter recorded for example, 
Rather than borrow example. 

Fran. There's no way 

More speeding than this thought on. 

Lod. On, then. 80 

Fran. And yet mee thinkes that this revenge 
is poore. 

Because it steales upon him like a theif ; 
To have tane him by the caske in a pitcht 

feild, 
!^ed him to Florence ! 

Lod. It had bin rare. — And there 

lave crown'd him with a wreath of stinking 

garlicke, 85 

79 borrow example. CD, borrow from it. 

80 On, then. B, Oh then. 



1 26 tE^^e mUtt 2l>ebil [act v. 

T* have showne the sharpnesse of his govern- 
ment 
And rancknesse of his lust. Flamineo comes. 
Exeunt LodovicOy Antonelli [and Gasparo] . 
Enter FlamineOy Marcello, and Zanche. 

Marcello. Why doth this devill haunt you, say ? 

Flamineo. I know not. 

For by this light I doe not conjure for her. 
Tis not so great a cunning as men thinke 
To raise the devill : for heeres one up allreadie. 
The greatest cunning were to lay him downe. 

Mar, Shee is your shame. 

Flam. I prethee pardon her. 

In faith you see, women are like to burres ; 
Where their affection throwes them, there they'l 
sticke. 

Zanche. That is my country man, a goodly 
person. 
When hee's at leisure He discourse with him 
In our owne language. 

Flam. I beseech you doe. Exit Zanche. 

How is't, brave souldier ? O, that I had seene 
Some of your iron dales ! I pray relate 
Some of your service to us. 

Fran. T'is a ridiculous thing for a man to 
bee his own chronicle. I did never wash my 

87 luit. Flamineo. CD, lust — But, peace; Flamineo comes. 
Flamineo comes. A separate line in Qq. 



I 



Scene I. ] tCtje Wi\)itt '^Ml 1 2 J 

mouth with mine owne praise for feare of get- 
ting a stincking breath. 105 

Mar. You're too stoicall. The duke will ex- 
pect other discourse from you. 

Fran. I shall never flatter him: I have studied 
man to much to do that. What difference is 
betweene the duke and I? no more than be- no 
tweene two brickes, all made of one clay: onely 't 
may bee one is plac't on the top of a turret ; 
the other in the bottom of a well by meere 
chance. If I were plac't as high as the duke, I 
should sticke as fast; make as faire a shew; 115 
and beare out weather equally. 

Flam. \_aside.~\ If this souldier had a patent 
to beg in churches, then hee would tell them 
stories. 

Mar. I have bin a souldier too. , 120 

Fran. How have you thriv'd .? 

Mar. Faith, poorely. 

Fran. That's the miserie of peace. Onely 
outsides are then respected. As shippes seeme 
verie great upon the river, which shew veriei25 
little upon the seas ; so some men i'th court 
seeme colossuses in a chamber, who if they came 
into the feild would appeare pittifull pigmies. 

Flam. Give mee a faire roome yet hung with 
arras, and some great cardinall to lug mee by 1 30 
th' eares as his endeared minion. 



1 2 8 tir^e WSi^itt Wttil [Act v. 

Fran. And thou maist doe the devill knowes 
what vilanie. 

Flam. And safely. 

Fran. Right : you shall see in the countrie 
in harvest time, pigeons, though they destroy 
never so much corne, the farmer dare not pre- 
sent the fowling peece to them ! why ? because 
they belong to the lord of the mannor ; whilest 
your poore sparrowes that belong to the Lord of hq 
heaven, they go to the pot for't. 

Flam. I will now give you some polliticke 
instruction. The duke sales he will give you 
pension ; that's but bare promise : get it under 
his hand. For I have knowne men that havens 
come from serving against the Turke ; for three 
or foure moneths they have had pension to buy 
them new woodden legges and fresh plaisters ; 
but after, 'twas not to bee had. And this miser- 
able curtesie shewes as if a tormenter should 159 
give hot cordiall drinkes to one three quarters 
dead o'th' racke, onely to fetch the miserable 
soule againe to indure more dogdaies. 

\_Exit Francis CO. '\ 

Enter Hortensioy a yong Lord, Zanche, and two more. 
How now, gallants ! what, are they readie for 
the barriers? 15^ 

143 instruction. BCD, instructions. you pension. BCD, you ■ 
a pension. Exit Francisco. Added by Dyce. 



I 



Scene I] W^t WSi^^itt WttH 1 29 

Toung Lord. Yes : the lordes are putting on 
their armour. 

Hortensio. What's hee ? 

Flam. A new up-start : one that sweares like 
a falckner, and will lye in the dukes eare day by 160 
day like a maker of almanacks ; and yet I knew 
him, since hee came to th' court, smell worse of 
sweat than an under tennis-court-keeper. 

Hort. Looke you, yonder's your sweet mis- 
tresse. 165 

Flam. Thou art my sworne brother : Pie tell 

thee, I doe love that Moore, that witch, very 

constrainedly : shee knowes some of my vil- 

[ lanny. I do love her, just as a man holds a 

I wolfe by the eares : but for feare of turning upon 170 

I mee, and pulling out my throate, I would let her 

go to the devill. 

Hort. I heare she claimes marriage of thee. 

Flam. 'Faith, I made to her some such darke 
promise ; and in seeking to flye from't, I run on, 175 
like a frighted dog with a bottle at's taile, that 
faine would bite it off and yet dares not looke 
behind him. Now my pretious gipsie ! 

Zanche. I, your love to me rather cooles then 
heates. 

Flam. Marry, I am the sounder lover : we have 1 80 
many wenches about the towne heate too fast. 

180 sounder. A puts a comma after this. 



130 tE^lfte Mtiitr 2Del3il [act v. 

Hort. What do you thinke of these perfum'd 
gallants, then ? 

Flam. Their sattin cannot save them. I am 
confident i8 

They have a certaine spice of the disease, 
For they that sleep with dogs shall rise with fleas. 

Zan. Beleeve it ! a little painting and gay 
clothes 
Make you [love] me. 

Flam. How ? love a lady for painting or gay 19 
apparell ? Tie unkennell one example more for 
thee. Esop had a foolish dog that let go the 
flesh to catch the shadow. I would have cour- 
tiers bee better [diners]. 

Zan. You remember your oathes. 

Flam. Lovers oathes are like marriners' 
prayers, uttered in extremity ; but when the 
tempest is o're, and that the vessell leaves 
tumbling, they fall from protesting to drinking. 
And yet amongst gentlemen, protesting and* 
drinking go together, and agree as well as shooe- 
makers and West-phalia bacon : they are both 
drawers on ; for drinke drawes on protestation ; 
, and protestation drawes on more drinke. Is not 
this discourse better now then the morality of 
your sun-burnt gentleman? 

189 lo-ve. ABC, loath. 194 diners. AB, diuers ; CD and 
succeeding editions, divers. 205 morality. ABC, mortality. 



Scene I] tD^tje M^ltf WtUl 1 3 1 

Enter Cornelia, 

Cornelia, Is this your pearch, you haggard ? 

flye to'th stewes ! {Striking Zanche.'] 

Flam. You should be clapt by th' heeles 

now: strike i'th court! [Exit Cornelia.'] 

Zan. She's good for nothing but to make her 

maids 

Catch cold a nights ; they dare not use a bed- 

stafFe, 2] 

For feare of her light fingers. 

Mar. YouVe a strumpet, 

An impudent one. 

Flam. Why do you kicke her? say, 

Do you thinke that she's like a walnut-tree ? 
Must she be cudgel'd ere shee beare good fruite ? 
Mar, Shee brags that you shall marry her. 
Flam. What then ?2] 

Mar. I had rather she were pitch't upon a 
stake 
In some new-seeded garden, to affright 
Her fellow crowes thence. 

Flam. Your a boy, a foole. 

Be guardian to your hound; I am of age. 

Mar. If I take her neere you. Tie cut her 

throate. aa 

Flam. With a fan of feathers ? 

2IO use a bedstaffe. D, use bed-staves. 

212-213 ^^'' ^ ^'^y^ 1^0 you- Dyce prints her, say f 



132 ^\)t W3i\)itt SDebil [Act v. 

Mar. And for you, I'le whip 

This folly from you. 

Flam. Are you cholericke ? 

rie purg't with rubarbe. 

Hort. O your brother ! 

F/am. Hang him ! 

Hee wrongs me most that ought t' offend mee 

least. 

I do suspect my mother plaid foule play 2255 

When she conceiv'd thee. 

Mar. Now by all my hopes, 

Like the two slaughtred sons of Oedipus, 
The very flames of our affection 
Shall turne [two] waies. Those words Tie 

make thee answere 
With thy heart bloud. 

Flam. Doe like the geesse in the pro- 

gresse ; »30j 

You know where you shall finde mee. [Exit.~\ 

Mar. Very good. 

And thou beest a noble, friend, beare him my 

sword. 
And bid him fit the length on't. 

Young Lord. Sir, I shall. 

\Exeunt all but Zanche.'\ 

22.9 turne tivo. A, turne lo. 

230 Doe like. B puts a comma after doe. 

232 noble ^ friend. BCD omit the comma after noble. 



Scene I. ] tBf)t WiJl\)itt SDebll 133 

Zan. He comes. Hence petty thought of 
my disgrace ! 
Enter Francisco, the Duke of Florence* 
I neere lov'd my complexion till now, 2,35 

Cause I may boldly say without a blush, 
I love you. 

Francisco. Your love is untimely sowen ; 
there's a spring at Michaelmas, but 'tis but a 
faint one : I am sunck in yeares, and I have 240 
vowed never to marry. 

Zan. Alas ! poore maides get more lovers 
then husbands : yet you may mistake my wealth. 
For, as when embassadours are sent to congratu- 
late princes, there's commonly sent along with 245 
them a rich present ; so that though the prince 
like not the embassadours person nor words, yet 
he likes well of the presentment : so I may come 
to you in the same maner, & be better loved 
for my dowry then my vertue. 25° 

Fran. I'le thinke on the motion. 

Zan. Do : He now detaine you no longer. 
At your better leasure I'le tell you things shall 
startle your bloud. 

Nor blame me that this passion I reveale ; 25 5 

Lovers dye inward that their flames conceale. 

{^Exit.'\ 

238 Tour love, etc. Assigned in AB to Fla. instead of Fra. 

239 'm but. Query : omit but. 



134 ^^t m\)itt SDebil [Act v. 

Fran. Of all intelligence this may prove the 
best : 
Sure, I shall draw strange fowle from this foule 
nest. [Exif.^ 

[Scene ii.] 
[Padua. Brachiano' s Palace."^ 
Enter Mar cello and Cornelia. 

Cornelia. I heare a whispering all about the 
court, 
You are to fight : who is your opposite ? 
What is the quarrell ? 

Marcello. 'Tis an idle rumour. 

Cor, Will you dissemble ? sure, you do not 
well 
To fright me thus ; you never look thus pale. 
But when you are most angry. I do charge you 
Upon my blessing, — nay. Tie call the duke. 
And he shall schoole you. 

Mar. Publish not a feare 

Which would convert to laughter ; 'tis not so. 
Was not this crucifix my fathers ? 

Cor. Yes. 

Mar. I have heard you say, giving my brother 
sucke, 
Hee tooke the crucifix betweene his hands, 

258 Exit. 2q here mark: Exeunt. Dyce is obviously right 
in indicating two Exits, as here given. 
Scene ii. D, Act. 4. Seen. 6. 



sczNE II. ] tETlie Wi\)itt 2E>ebil 135 

EnUr Flamineo. 
And broke a limbe off. 

Cor. Yes ; but 'tis mended. 

Flamineo, I have brought your weapon backe. 
Flamineo runnes Marcello through. 
Cor. Ha ! O my horrour ! 

Mar. You have brought it home indeed. 
Cor. Helpe, oh he's murdered ! 15 

Flam. Do you turne your gaule up ? Fie to 
sanctuary, 
And send a surgeon to you. \Exit Flamineo.'\ 

Enter Car\_lo,'] Hort[ensiOy~\ Pedro. 
Hortensio. How ? o'th ground ? 

Mar. O mother, now remember what I told, 
Of breaking off the crucifix : farewell, — 
There are some sinnes which heaven doth duly 

punish ao 

In a whole family. This it is to rise 
By all dishonest meanes ! Let all men know. 
That tree shall long time keepe a steddy foote 
Whose branches spread no [wider] then the 
roote. [Z)/^x.] 

Cor. O my perpetuall sorrow ! 

16 gaule. D, gill. Exit Flamineo. C. 

Enter . . . Pedro. This entry (for typographical reasons) is 
placed zhtT fareivell (1. 19) in AB. CD have only Enter Hort. 
Carlo is Lodovico, — Pedro, Gasparo. 

19 off. BCD, of. 

24 wider. ABC, wilder. 



136 W^t OT^ite SDtbil [act v. 

Hort. Vertuous Marcello ! 

Hee's dead : pray leave him, lady ; come, you 
shall. 

Cor. Alas, he is not dead : hee's in a trance. 
Why here's no body shall get any thing by his 
death. Let me call him againe, for Gods sake ! 

Hort. I would you were deceiv'd. 

Cor. O you abuse mee, you abuse me, you 
abuse me ! How many have gone away thus, 
for lacke of tendance ! Reare up's head, reare 
up's head ! His bleeding inward will kill him. 

Hort. You see hee is departed. 

Cor. Let mee come to him ; give mee him 
as hee is, if hee bee turn'd to earth ; let mee but 
give him one heartie kisse, and you shall put us 
both into one coffin : fetch a looking glasse, see 
if his breath will not staine it ; or pull out some 
feathers from my pillow, and lay them to his 
lippes. Will you loose him for a little paines 
taking ? 

Hort. Your kindest office is to pray for him. 

Cor. Alas ! I would not pray for him yet. 
Hee may live to lay mee ith ground, and prayi 
for mee, if you'l let mee come to him. 



30 I . . . decei'v'' d. This speech is assigned to Car. in ABC ^ 
in D as here. 

37 hee is. Dyce puts a colon after is. earth. B puts a 

comma after earth. 



I 



Scene II.] ^\)t Wi^t SDetJll 137 

Enter Brachiano all armedy save the beaver ; with 
Flamineoy [^Page, carrying the beavery and 
Fran Cisco, ~\ 

Brachiano. Was this your handy-worke ? 
Flamineo. It was my misfortune. 
Cor. Hee lies, hee lies, hee did not kill him : 50 
these have kill'd him, that would not let him bee 
better look't to. 

Brach. Have comfort, my greivM mother. 
Cor. O you scritch-owle ! 

Hort. Forbeare, good madam. 55 

Cor, Let mee goe, let mee goe ! 

She runes to Flamineo with her knif drawne, 
and camming to himy lets it fall. 
The God of heaven forgive thee ! Do'st not 

wonder 
I pray for thee ? He tell thee what's the reason : 
I have scarce breath to number twentie minutes ; 
Ide not spend that in cursing. Fare thee well : 60 
Halfe of thy selfe lies there : and maist thou live 
To fill an howre-glasse with his mouldred ashes, 
To tell how thou shouldst spend the time to 

come 
In blest repentance ! 

Brach. Mother, pray tell mee 

How came hee by his death ? what was the 

quarrell ? 65 

54 you. CD, O yon. 



1 38 Wf^t Wfjite 2r>et3il [act v. 

Cor. Indeed, my yonger boy presum'd too 
much 
Upon his manhood ; gave him bitter wordes ; 
Drew his sword first ; and so, I know not how. 
For I was out of my wits, hee fell with's head 
Just in my bosome. 

Page. This is not trew, madam. 

Cor. I pray thee peace. 
One arrow's graz'd allready ; it were vaine 
T' lose this : for that will nere bee found 
againe. 
Brack. Go, beare the bodie to Cornelia's 
lodging : 
And wee commaund that none acquaint our 

dutchesse 
With this sad accident. For you, Flamineo, 
Hearke you, I will not graunt your pardon. 
Flam. No ? 

Brack. Onely a lease of your life. And that 
shall last 
But for one day. Thou shalt be forc't each 

evening 
To renew it, or be hang'd. 

Flam. At your pleasure. 

Lodovico [secretly'] sprinckles Brachiano* s bever 
with a poison. 
Your will is law now, He not meddle with it. 

80 To . . . it. Ends preceding line in Qq. 






Scene IIL] tET^f Mtjlte DeWl 1 39 

Brach. You once did brave mee in your sis- 
ters lodging ; 
rie now keepe you in awe for't. Where's our 
beaver ? 
Francisco. \aside?^ Hee cals for his destruc- 
tion. Noble youth, 
I pitty thy sad fate ! Now to the barriers. 85 

This shall his passage to the blacke lake further, 
The last good deed hee did, he pardon'd mur- 
ther. Exeunt, 

[Scene ill.] 

[Padua. The Courtyard of the Palace. '\ 

Charges and shoutes. They fight at Barriers ; first 

single paireSy then three to three. 
Enter Brachiano, \_Francisco'] ^ Flamineo with others. 

Brachiano. An armorer ! uds' death, an ar- 
morer ! 
Flamineo. Armorer ! where' s the armorer ? 
Brach. Teare ofF my beaver. 
Flam. Are you hurt, my lord ? 

Brach. O my braine's on fire ! 
Enter Armorer. 
The helmet is poison'd. 

Armorer. My lord, upon my soule — 5 

86 This line is indented in AB. 

Scene Hi. D, Actus guintus. Scena Prima. This follows the 
direction concernmg the Barriers. 



140 tEttje OTIftite 2E>et)il [act v. 

Brach, Away with him to torture ! 
There are some great ones that have hand in 

this, 
And neere about me. 

[^Enter Fittoria.~\ 
Vittoria. O my loved lord, poisoned ? 

Flam. Remove the barre : heer's unfortunate 
rev [e] Is ! 
Call the physitions. A plague upon you ! 

Enter 2. Physitians. 
Wee have to[o] much of your cunning here 

already. 
I feare the embassadours are likewise poysonM. 
Brach. Oh I am gone already : the infection 
Flies to the braine and heart. O thou strong 

heart ! 
There's such a covenant 'tweene the world and 

it, 
They're loath to breake. 

\_Enter Giovanni. '\ 
Giovanni. O my most loved father ! 

Brach. Remove the boy away : 
Where's this good woman ? Had I infinite worlds, 
They were too little for thee. Must I leave 

thee ? 
What say yon scritch-owles, is the venomne 
mortall ? 

Enter Vittoria. D. Enter Giovanni. D. 

20 say yon. BC, say you ; D, say yon. owles. CD, owl. 



Scene III] ^^t Wi\)itt WtM 1 4 1 

Physician. Most deadly. 

Brach. Most corrupted pollitick hangman ! 
You kill without booke ; but your art to save 
Failes you as oft as great mens needy friends. 
I that have given life to offending slaves 
And wretched murderers, have I not power 25 

To lengthen mine owne a twelve-month ? 
Do not kisse me, for I shall poyson thee. 

[To Fittoria,'] 
This unction is sent from the great Duke of 
Florence. 
Francisco. Sir, bee of comfort. 
Brach. O thou soft naturall death, that art 
joint-twin 30 

To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet 
Stares on thy milde departure ; the dull owle 
Beates not against thy casement ; the hoarse 

wolfe 
Sents not thy carion : pitty windes thy coarse. 
Whilst horrour waights on princes. 

Fit. I am lost for ever. 35 

Brach. How miserable a thing it is to die, 
'Mongst women howling ! 

\_Enter Lodovico and Caspar 0, disguise d.~\ 
What are those ? 
Flam. Franciscans. 

They have brought the extreame unction. 

To Vittoria. D. 30 art. BC, are j D, art. 



142 Wf^t nUtt 2Det3il [Act V. 

Brack. On paine of death, let no man name 
death to me, — 
It is a word infinitely terrible. f 

Withdraw into our cabinet. 

Exeunt [all'\ but Francisco and Flamineo 
\_Brachiano being borne out~^. 

Flam, To see what solitarinesse is about 
dying princes ! As heretofore they have un- 
peopled townes, divorst friends, and made great 
houses unhospitable ; so now, O justice ! where 4 
are their flatterers now ? Flatterers are but the 
shadowes of princes bodies ; the least thicke 
cloud makes them invisible. 

Fran. There's great moane made for him. 

Flam. Taith, for some few howers salt water s 
will runne most plentifully in every office o'th 
court. But beleeve it, most of them do but 
weepe over their step-mothers graves. 

Fran. How meane you ? 

Flam. Why, they dissemble, as some men 5; 
doe that live within compasse o'th verge. 

Fran. Come, you have thriv'd well under 
him. 

Flam. 'Faith, like a wolfe in a womans 

40 ivord infinitely. MS note in A, word most infinitely. 

42-48 To see . . . in-visible. This speech may be rendered into 
a kind of verse whose lines end in see^ princes, townes, unhospitabUy 
noiv, bodies, invisible. 

53 graves. BCD, grave. 



Scene HI] ^f)t WiUtt WMi 143 

breast ; I have beene fed with poultry : but, for 60 
money, understand me, I had as good a will to 
cosen him, as e're an officer of them all. But 
I had not cunning enough to doe it. 

Fran. What did'st thou thinke of him ? 'faith, 
speake freely. 65 

F/am. Hee was a kinde of states-man, that 
would sooner have reckond how many cannon 
bullets he had discharged against a towne, to 
count his expence that way, than how many of 
his valiant and deserving subjects hee lost be- 7° 
fore it. 

Fran. O, speake well of the duke. 

Flam. I have done. WilPt heare some of 
my court wisedome ? (Enter Lodovico.') To re- 
prehend princes is dangerous : and to over- 75 
commend some of them is palpable lying. 

Fran. How is it with the duke ? 

Lodovico. Most deadly ill. 

Hee's fall'n into a strange distraction. 
Hee talkes of battailes and monopolies. 
Levying of taxes, and from that descends 80 

To the most brain-sicke language. His minde 

fastens 

On twentie severall objects, which confound 
Deepe sence with follie. Such a fearefull end 
May teach some men that beare too loftie crest. 
Though they live happiest, yet they dye not best, 85 



144 ^^t Mliite SDetJil [act v. 

Hee hath conferr'd the whole state of the duke- 
dome 
Upon your sister, till the prince arrive 
At mature age. 

Fiam. There's some good lucke in that yet. 
Fran, See, heere he comes. 

[^The traverse is drawn.'^ 
Enter Brachianoy presented in a bed ; Vittoria and 
others. 
There's death in's face allready. 
Vittoria, O my good lord ! 
Brachiano. Away, you have ^^^^^ ^^^^^^, ^^^ .^. 

abus'd mee ! erall kinds of distc- 

You have convayd coyne forth ''""^ ^"^ '" ^^^ ^'"^ 

. . "^ should apeare. 

our territories ; 
Bought and sold offices ; oppres d the poore, 
And I nere dreampt on't. Make up your ac- 

countes ; 
He now bee mine owne steward. 

Flam. Sir, have patience. 

Brach. Indeed I am to blame. 5 

Enter Brachiano. The place is now Brachiano's 'cabinet.' No 
new scene is indicated in any edition, but Mr. Greg suggests one. We 
are to assume either Brachiano's entrance in a bed carried by attend- 
ants, or the drawing of a traverse discovering Brachiano in bed. In 
either event, it is dramatically a new scene. The objection to mark- 
ing it so is Francisco's speech, See, heere he comes. 

These . . . apeare. This marginal direction appears only in A. 
The B. M. copy is clipped in binding : a few letters supplied are 
from Dyce's collation. 



Scene III] tETJe MH^itt DeWl 145 

For did you ever heare the duskie raven 

Chide blacknesse ? or wast ever knowne the 

divell 
Raild against cloven creatures ? 

Fit. O my lord ! 

Brach. Let mee have some quailes to supper. 

Flam, Sir, you shal. 

Brach. No, some fried dog-fish : your quailes 
feed on poison. loo 

That old dog-fox, that polititian, Florence ! 
He forsweare hunting and turne dog-killer; 
Rare ! He bee frindes with him : for marke you, 

sir, one dog 
Still sets another a barking : peace, peace, 
Yonder's a fine slave come in now. 

Flam. Where ? 

Brach. Why there, 105 

In a blew bonnet, and a paire of breeches 
With a great codpeece. Ha, ha, ha ! 
Looke you, his codpeece is stucke full of pinnes, 
With pearles o'th head of them. Doe not you 
know him ? 

F/am. No, my lord. 

Brach. Why, 'tis the devill : no 

I know him by a great rose he weares on's shooe 
To hide his cloven foot. He dispute with him : 
Hee's a rare linguist. 

Fit. My lord, heers nothing. 



146 W\^t OT^ite 2Det3il [act v. 

Brack. Nothing ? rare ! nothing ! when I 
want monie, 
Our treasurie is emptie ; there is nothing : 
He not bee us'd thus. 

Fit. O ! 'ly still, my lord ! 

Brack. See, see, Flamineo that kill'd his 
brother 
Is dancing on the ropes there : and he carries 
A monie-bag in each hand, to keepe him even, 
For feare of breaking's necke. And there's a 

lawyer 

In a gowne whipt with velvet, stares and gapes 
When the mony will fall. How the rogue cuts 

capers ! 
It should have bin in a halter. 
'Tis there : what's shee ? 

Flam. Vittoria, my lord. 

Brack. Ha, ha, ha ! Her haire is sprinckled 
with arras powder. 
That makes her looke as if she 

had Sinn'd in the pastrie. Brachianoseemesh 
^ neare hts end, L 

What s hee r ^ico & Gaspan, 

Flam. A divine, my lord, the habit of Capuc, 

Brach. Hee will bee drunke; Cr?t::> ; 

avoid him : th' argument halloived candU. 

116 '/y. Apostrophe in Qq. 

125-127 Ha . . . What's hee? Printed as prose in Qq. 

Brachiano . . . candle. Six or eight letters of this are clipped 



Scene III.] ^}^t Wi^tt WMl I47 

Is fearefull when church-men stagger in't. 

Looke you; six gray rats that have lost their 

tailes, 130 

Crall up the pillow; send for a rat-cat [c] her ! 

He doe a miracle : He free the court 

From all foule vermin. Where's Flamineo ? 

Flam. I doe not like that hee names mee so 

often, 

Especially on's death-bed : 'tis a signe 135 

I shall not live long. See, hee's neere his end. 

Loci. Pray give us leave. Jttende^ Domine Bra- 

chiane. 

Flam. See, see, how firmely hee doth fixe his 

eye 

Upon the crucifix. 

Vit. O hold it constant ! 

It settles his wild spirits ; and so his eies 140 

Melt into teares. 

Lod. Domine Brachiane^ solehas 
, jj J ^ By the crucifix. 

tn bello tutus esse tuo clypeo ; nunc 

, hunc clypeum hosti tuo opponas infernali. 

' in A ( B. M. ) . The presence of this marginal note is perhaps respon- 
\ sible for the irregular line-arrangement of the next four verses in 
ABC. The arrangement of D is followed here. In A, the lines 
end in «, /«V, the^ -cather^ court, 
130 gray rats. BC, gray cats. 
137 Brachiane. B, Brachiano. 

By . . . crucifix. By . . . taper. The two marginal notes 
are badly clipped in ABC (B. M. copies). D is perfect and is here 
' followed. AB have Ho- as the first syllable of halloived. 



148 W^t WlUtt 2r>et)tl [Act v. 

Gas. Olim hasta valuisti in hello ; 
nunc banc sacram hastam vibrabis ^ * ' '^ °'^ 

taper. 

contra host em animarum. 

Lod. jittende^ Domine Brachiane : si nunc quoque 
probas ea qua acta sunt inter nos^ flecte caput in 
dextrum. \ 

Gas. Esto securus^ Domine Brachiane : cogita 
quantum habeas meritorum ; denique memineris meam 
animam pro tua oppignoratam si quid esset periculi, 

Lod. Si nunc quoque probas ea qua acta sunt 
inter nos.^ flecte caput in lavum. J 

Hee is departing : pray stand all apart, 
And let us onely whisper in his eares 
Some private meditations, which our order 
Permits you not to heare. 

Hearey the rest being departed, Lodovico 
and Gasparo discover themselves. 

Gas. Brachiane, — 

Lod. Devill Brachiano, thou art damn'd. 

Gas. Perpetually, i 

Lod. A slave condemned and given up to the 
gallowes 
Is thy great lord and master. 

Gas. True : for thou 

Art given up to the devill. 

155 la-vum. A, levum ; B, lavum. 

Gasparo. A, Gasparao or. 

160 Devill Brachiano. Separate line in Qq. 



Scene III] t!^\^t Wi^t ^Ml 149 

Lod. O you slave ! 

You that were held the famous pollititian ; 
Whose art was poison ! 

Gas. And whose conscience, murder .'165 

Lod. That would have broke your wives necke 
downe the staires 
Ere she was poison'd ! 

Gas. That had your villanous sallets ! 

Lod. And fine imbrodered bottles, and per- 
fumes. 
Equally mortall with a winter plague ! 

Gas. Now there's mercarie — 

Lod. And copperesse — 

Gas. And quickesilver — 170 

Lod. With other develish potticarie stufFe, 
A melting in your polliticke braines : do'st heare ? 

Gas. This is Count Lodovico. 

Lod. This, Gasparo. 

And thou shalt die like a poore rogue. 

Gas. And stinke 

Like a dead flie-blowne dog. 175 

Lod. And be forgotten before thy funerall 
sermon. 

Brach. Vittoria ? Vittoria ! 

Lod. O the cursed devill, 

Come to himselfe againe ! Wee are undone. 

166-167 Prose in Qq. 168 and perfumes. Separate line in A. 
171 potticarie. B, Apothecarie. 178 Come. BCD, Comes. 



ISO tCtie M^iite Wt\)il [act v. 

Enter Fittoria, [^Francisco, F/amineo] and the At- 
tend[ants.'j 

Gas. Strangle him in private. What, will you' 
call him againe 
To live in treble torments ? for charitie, o 

For Christian charitie, avoid the chamber. 

l^Exeunt.'] , 
Lod. You would prate, sir. This is a true- 
love knot I 
Sent from the Duke of Florence. I 

Brachiano is strangled, f 
Gas. What, is it done ? ' 

Lod. The snuffe is out. No woman-keeper 
i'th world. 
Though shee had practis'd seven yere at the 

pest-house, 5 

Could have done't quaintlyer. My lordes hee's 
dead. 

\They return.~\ 
Omnes. Rest to his soule! [ The traverse is closed.'] 
Vittoria. O mee ! this place is hell. 

Exit Vittoria. 
Francisco. How heavily shee takes it ! 

Enter. . . Attendants. D, Act. 5. Seen. 2. Dyce adds Flamineo 
to this list. Francisco's name is in CD. 

Exeunt. CD. Dyce adds : Vittoria, Francisco, Flamineo, and 
Attendants. 

184 luoman-keeper. Preferably, woman keeper. 

They return. CD. 



Scene III. ] ^\)t Wi\)itt SDetjll 1 5 1 

Flamineo. O yes, yes j 

Had women navigable rivers in their eies, 
They would dispend them all; surely, I wonder 190 
Why wee should wish more rivers to the cittie, 
When they sell water so good cheape. He tell 

thee. 
These are but moonish shades of greifes or 

feares ; 
There's nothing sooner drie than womens 

teares. 
Why heere's an end of all my harvest ; hee 

[h]as given mee nothing. 195 

Court promises ! let wisemen count them curst. 
For while you live, hee that scores best paies 

worst. 
Fran. Sure, this was Florence doing. 
Flam. Very likelie. 

Those are found waightie strokes which come 

from th' hand. 
But those are killing strokes which come from 

th' head. 200 

O the rare trickes of a Machivillian ! 
Hee doth not come Hke a grosse plodding slave 
And buffet you to death : no, my quaint knave, 
Hee tickles you to death, makes you die 

laughing. 
As if you had swallowM downe a pound of 

saffron. 205 



1 5 2 ®lie W^ite SDebil [act v. 

You see the feat, 'tis practis'd in a trice : \ 

To teach court-honestie, it jumpes on ice. 

Fran. Now have the people libertie to talke 
And descant on his vices. 

Fiam. Miserie of princes, ; 

That must of force bee censurM by their f 
slaves ! ^ 

Not onely blam'd for doing things are ill. 
But for not doing all that all men will. j 

One were better be a thresher. Uds'death, I j 
Would faine speake with this duke yet. 

Fran. Now hee's dead ? 

Mam. I cannot conjure; but if praiers or 
oathes 
Will get to th' speech of him, though forty 
devils ^ 

Waight on him in his livery of flames, I 

rie speake to him, and shake him by the hand,| 
Though I bee blasted. £x^i Flamineo. ^ 

Fran. Excellent Lodovico ! [ 

What, did you terrifie him at the last gaspe ? \ 

Lod. Yes; and so idely, that the duke had| 
like 
T* have terrified us. 

Fran. How ? 

Lod. You shall heare that heareafter, 

ai3 Udi'death, I. Begins following line in Qq. 

Exit Flamineo. This exit is placed one line lower in ABC. 



Scene III] tE^^t WSSi^tt WMl 1 5 3 

Enter the Moore \Zanche'\ . 
See ! yon*s the infernall that would make up 

sport. 
Now to the revelation of that secret, 
Shee promis't when she fell in love with you. ^^5 
Fran. You're passionately met in this sad 

world. 
Zanche. I would have you look up, sir ; these 
court teares 
Claime not your tribute to them. Let those 

weepe 
That guiltily pertake in the sad cause. 
I knew last night, by a sad dreame I had, 230 

Some mischiefe would insue ; yet to say truth. 
My dreame most concerned you. 

Lod. Shal's fall a dreaming ? 

Fran. Yes ; and for fashion sake He dreame 

with her. 
Zan. Mee thought, sir, you came stealing to 

my bed. 
Fran. Wilt thou beleeve me, sweeting; by 
this light, 235 

I was a dreampt on thee too : for me thought 
I saw thee naked. 

223 infernall that. Mr. Daniel suggests: infernall hag. 

227-232 I 'would . . . concern'' d you. Like the other speeches of 
Zanche in this scene, this is indicated in AB by Moo. for Moore ; 
and in several cases also, Francisco's speeches are marked Flo. for 
Florence. 



154 tET^ie mWt 2r>rt3il [Act v. 

Zan. Fy, sir ! As I told you, 

Me thought you lay downe by me. I 

Fran. So drempt I ; i 

And least thou should'st take cold, I cover'd thee ' 
With this Irish mantle. 

Zan. Verily, I did dreame aj 

You were somewhat bold with me ; but to come 
to't, — 

Lod. How ? how ? I hope you will not go 
to it here. 

Fran. Nay ; you must heare my dreame out. 

Zan. Well, sir, forth. 

Fran. When I threw the mantle ore thee, 
thou didst laugh 
Exceedingly, me thought. 

Zan. Laugh ? 

Fran. And cridst out,*- 

The haire did tickle thee. 

Zan. There was a dreame indeed ! 

Lod. Marke her, I prethee, shee simpers like 
the suddes 
A collier hath bene washt in. 

Zan. Come, sir ; good fortune tends you ; I 
did tell you 
I would reveale a secret : Isabella, 
The Duke of Florence sister, was impoison'd 
By a 'fum'd picture; and Camillo's necke 

242 to it here. B, to there ; CD, to't there. 



Scene III. ] ^^1^0 WiUtt SDetttl 1 5 5 

Was broke by damn'd Flamineo ; the mischance 
Laid on a vaulting horse. 

Fran. Most strange ! 

Zan, Most true. 

Lod, The bed of snakes is broke. 255 

Zan. I sadly do confesse I had a hand 
In the blacke deed. 

Fran. Thou kepts their counsell. 

Zan. Right ; 

For which, urg'd with contrition, I intend 
This night to rob Vittoria. 

Lod. Excellent penitence ! 

Usurers dreame on't while they sleepe out ser- 
mons. 260 

Zan. To further our escape, I have entreated 
Leave to retire me, till the funerall. 
Unto a friend i'th country. That excuse 
Will further our escape. In coine and jewels 
I shall, at least, make good unto your use 265 

An hundred thousand crowns. 

Fran. O noble wench ! 

Lod. Those crownes we'le share. 

Zan. It is a dowry, 

Me thinkes, should make that sun-burnt proverbe 
I false, 

j^nd wash the Ethiop white. 

Fran. It shall. Away ! 

257 counsell. Dyce, counsel? 



156 W^t Wi\)itt 2[>eijil [Act v. 

Zan. Be ready for our flight. I 

Fran. An howre 'fore day. Exit the Moore, %\ 

O strange discovery ! why, till now we knew i 

not 
The circumstance of either of their deaths. 
Enter Moore. 
Zanche. You'le waight about midnight in the ; 
chappel. ; 

Fran. There. \_Exit Zanche.~\ \ 

Lod. Why, now our action's justified. 
Fran. Tush for justice ! ■ 

What harmes it justice ? we now, like the par- 
tridge, 2I 
Purge the disease with lawrell : for the fame \ 
Shall crowne the enterprise and quit the shame 

Exeunt, 

[Scene iv.] 

\Padua. Brachiano* s Palace. '\ 

Enter Flam \ineo'\ and Gasp[aro~\ at one dore, another 
wayy Giovanniy attended. 

Gasparo. The yong duke : did you ere see a 
sweeter prince ? | 

Flamineo. I have knowne a poore womans ' 
bastard better favor'd. This is behind him : 

273 Youle . . . midnight. Separate line in Qq. chappel. Dyce, 
chapel ? 

Scene iv. D, Act. 5. Seen. 3. 



Scene IV. ] tH^tje WSL^tt SDetJll 1 5 7 

now, to his face, all comparisons were hateful. 5 
Wise was the courtly peacocke, that being a 
great minion, and being compar'd for beauty, by 
some dottrels that stood by, to the kingly eagle, 
said the eagle was a farre fairer bird then her- 
selfe, not in respect of her feathers, but in re- 10 
spect of her long tallants. His will grow out in 
time. — My gratious lord ! 

Giovanni. I pray leave mee, sir. 

Fiam. Your grace must be merry : 'tis I have 
cause to mourne ; for wot you what said the 15 
little boy that rode behind his father on horse- 
backe ? 

Gio. Why, what said hee ? 

Flam. When you are dead, father (said he), 
I hope then I shall ride in the saddle. O 'tis a 20 
brave thing for a man to sit by himselfe ! he 
may stretch himselfe in the stirrops, looke about, 
and see the whole compasse of the hemisphere. 
You're now, my lord, ith saddle. 

Gio. Study your praiers, sir, and be penitent. ^5 
'Twere fit you'd thinke on what hath former 

bin; 
I have heard griefe nam'd the eldest child of 
sinne. £xit Giov[anni.'] 

Flam. Study my praiers ? he threatens me 
divinely ; 

II tallants. B, talons. 12 time. AB put a comma after time. 
20 hope then I. BCD, hope that I. 



158 tB^t Wi^itt 2Debil [Act v. 

I am falling to peeces already. I care not, 
though, like Anacharsis, I were pounded to death 
in a mortar. And yet that death were fitter for 
usurers, — gold and themselves to be beaten to- 
gether, to make a most cordiall chullice for the 
devill. 
He hath his unckles villanous looke already. 

Enter Courtier. 
In dec'imo sexto. Now sir, what are you ? 

Courtier. It is the pleasure, sir, of the yong 
duke. 
That you forbeare the presence, and all roomes 
That owe him reverence. 

Flam. So, the wolfe and the raven 

Are very pretty fools when they are yong. 
Is it your office, sir, to keepe me out ? 

Cour. So the duke wils. 

Flam. Verely, maister courtier, extreamity is 
not to bee used in all offices. Say that a gentle 
woman were taken out of her bed about mid- 
night, and committed to Castle Angelo, to the 
tower yonder, with nothing about her but her 
smocke : would it not shew a cruell part in the 
gentleman porter to lay clame to her upper gar- 
ment, pull it ore her head and eares, and put 
her in nak'd ? 

32 usurers. Qq have no punctuation after aiartr^. 37 the yong 
duke. D, the Duke. 39-41 So . . . out? Prose in (^q. 
46 to the. Dyce queries : or to the. 



I 



Scene IV] tClje Wi^itt WMl 159 

Cour. Very good : you are merrie. \_ExiL'] 

Flam. Doth hee make a court ejectment of 
mee ? A flaming firebrand casts more smoke 
without a chimney then withint. He smoore 55 
some of them. 

Enter Florence. 
How now ? thou art sad. 

Francisco. I met even now with the most piti- 
ous sight. 

Flam. Thou metst another heare, a pittifuU 
Degraded courtier. 

Fran. Your reverend mother 60 

Is growne a very old woman in two howers. 
I found them winding of Marcello's coarse 5 
And there is such a solemne melodic, 
'Tweene dolefull songes, teares, and sad elegies, 
Such as old grandames, watching by the dead, 65 
Were wont t'out-weare the nights with, that 

beleeve mee 
I had no eies to guide mee forth the roome. 
They were so ore-charg'd with water. 

Flam. I will see them. 

Fran. 'Twere much uncharety in you : for 
your sight 
Will adde unto their teares. 

Flam, I will see them. 



70 



Enter Florence. BCD, Enter Francisco. 
59 mem. D, meet'st. 



I 



1 60 tEPfte Wii^itt mt\ni [act v 

They are behind the travers. He discover 
Their superstitious howling. \_Draws the traverse.'] 

Come Hay the Moore and j. other Ladies discovered, 
winding Mar cellars coarse. A song. 

Cornelia. This rosemarie is wither'd ; pray get 
fresh ; 
I would have these herbes grow up in his 

grave, 
When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bayes, 
He tye a garland heere about his head : 
'Twill keepe my boy from lightning. This 

sheet 
I have kept this twentie yere, and everie daie 
Hallow'd it with my praiers. I did not thinke 
Hee should have wore it. 

Zanche. Looke you ; who are yonder ? 8 

Cor. O reach mee the flowers. 

Zan. Her ladiships foolish. 

Woman. Alas ! her grief i 

Hath turn'd her child againe. | 

Cor. You're very wellcome. 

There's rosemarie for you, and rue for you. 

To Flamineo. 
Hearts-ease for you : I pray make much of it. 8 
I have left more for my selfe. 

Fran. Ladie, who's this ? 

Cornelia. . . coarse. D, Act. 5. Seen. 4. jSyere. B, yeeres j 
CD, years. 85 make much. Query : take much. 86 more. Mr. 
Daniel suggests none. 



Scene IV.] tlTl^e Mtjlte SDetJll l6l 

Cor. You are, I take it, the grave-maker. 
Flam. So. 

Zan. 'Tis Flamineo. 

Cor. Will you make mee such a foole ? 
Heere's a white hand : 
Can bloud so soone bee washt out ? Let mee 

see : 90 

When scritch-howles croke upon the chimney 

tops, 
And the strange cricket ith oven singes and 

hoppes. 
When yellow spots doe on your handes ap- 

peare. 
Bee certaine then you of a course shall heare. 
Out upon't, how 'tis speckled ! h'as handled a 

toad sure. 95 

Couslep-water is good for the memorie : 
Pray buy me 3. ounces oPt. 

Flam. I would I were from hence. 
Cor. Do you heere, sir ? 

He give you a saying which my grandmother 
Was wont, when she heard the bell tolle, to 

sing ore 100 

Unto her lute. 

Flam. Doe an you will, doe. 

94 course. BCD, coarse ; Dyce, corse, 
96-97 couslep- . . , of^t. One line in Qq. 
loi Unto her lute. Ends preceding line in Qq. 



1 62 tETlje Wi\)itt mMi [Act v. 

Cor. Call for the rohin-red-hrest and the wren^ 
Since ore shadie groves they hover, Cornelia doth ji 

And with leaves andjlowres doe cover in severall for\ 
Thefriendlesse bodies ofunhuried men. °f distraction. 
Call unto his funerall dole 
The ante., the field-mouse ., and the mole.. 
To reare him hillockes., that shall keepe him warme., \ 
And {when gay tomhes are roFd^ sustaine no 

harme ; 
But keepe the wolf e far thence., thafs foe to men., ijl 
For with his nailes hee'l dig them up agen. 
They would not bury him 'cause hee died in a 

quarrell ; 
But I have an answere for them. 
Let holie church receive him duly 
Since hee payd the church tithes truly. >) 

His wealth is sum'd, and this is all his store : 
This poore men get ; and great men get no 

more. ! 

Now the wares are gone, wee may shut up shop. 
Blesse you all good people. 

Exeunt Corneliay and Ladies. 
Flam. I have a strange thing in mee, to th' 

which n 

I cannot give a name, without it bee 
Compassion. I pray leave mee. Exit Francisco. 
This night He know the utmost of my fate, 

Ii8 shop. Omitted in D. 



Scene IV] ^[1^1)0 Ml^lte SDttjU 163 

He bee resolv'd what my rich sister meanes 

T' assigne mee for my service. I have liv'd 125 

Riotously ill, like some that live in court ; 

And sometimes, when my face was full of 

smiles. 
Have felt the mase of conscience in my brest. 
Oft gay and honour'd robes those tortures trie ; 
" Wee thinke cag'd birds sing, when indeed 

they crie. 
Ha! I can stand thee. Neerer, an^Tgh^stX'ki^ 

neerer yet. leather cassock & 

What a mockerie hath death made ^'J^''? \°!""> ", 

. , , 11, 1 (^°^^^ i '" «" hand 

or thee r thou look st sad. apotofniiy- 

In what place art thou ? in yon flo-wers ivith a 
starrie gallerie, '"''"'"'- 

Or in the cursed dungeon ? No ? not speake ? 

Pray, sir, resolve mee, what religions best 135 

For a man to die in ? or is it in your know- 
ledge 

To answere me how long I have to live ? 

That's the most necessarie question. 

Not answere ? Are you still like some great 
men 

That onely walke like shadowes up and downe, 140 

127 my face BCD, his face. 128 mase. BCD, maze. 

Enter . . . in^t. Badly clipped in A (B. M. ); missing parts, 
ixcept ana's and in his hand^ the latter added by Dyce, supplied 
rom B. 

X^T. of thee. BCD omit o/". 



164 



XB^t OT^ite SE>et>il 



[Act V. 



The Ghoit 
thrcnves earth 
upon him and 
shelves him 
the scull. 



And to no purpose ? say ! — 
What's that? O fatall! hee 

throwes earth upon mee. 
A dead mans scull beneath the 

rootes of flowers ! 
I pray speake, sir; our Italian church-men 
Make us beleve dead men hold conference 
With their familiars, and many times 
Will come to bed to them, and eat with them. 

Exit G\host.'] 
Hee's gone; and see, the scull and earth are 

vanisht. 
This is beyond melancholic. I doe dare my fate 
To doe its worst. Now to my sisters lodging, 
And summe up all these horrours ; the disgrace 
The prince threw on mee ; next the pitious 

sight 
Of my dead brother ; and my mothers dotage ; 
And last this terrible vision. All these 
Shall with Vittoria's bountie turne to good. 
Or I will drowne this weapon in her blood. Exit. 

The . . . scull. Clipped in A (B. M. ) ; missing parts from B. 
Exit Ghost. Clipped in A. 



I 



Scene V. ] ®]^e Wi^tt 2Det)tl 1 65 



[Scene v.] 

IPadua. A Street.'] 

Enter Francisco, Lodovicoy and Hortensio [apart] , 

Lodovico. My lord, upon my soule, you shall 
no further : 
You have most ridiculously ingag'd your selfe 
Too far allready. For my part, I have payd 
All my debts, so if I should chance to fall, 
My creditours fall not with mee ; and I vow 
To quite all in this bold assemblie 
To the meanest follower. My lord, leave the 

cittie. 
Or He forsweare the murder. 

Francisco. Farewell, Lodovico. 

If thou do'st perish in this glorious act. 
He reare unto thy memorie that fame 
Shall in the ashes keepe alive thy name. 

[Exeunt Francisco and Lodovico severally.] 

Hortensio. There's some blacke deed on foot. 
He presently 
Downe to the citadell, and raise some force. 

Scene v. D, Act. 5, Seen. 5. 
1 1 the asAes. D, thy ashes. 

Exeunt . . . severally. CD mark here exit of Francisco only j 
AB give no directions. 



l66 XE^t Wi\)itt Detlil [Act V 

These strong court factions that do brooke no 

checks, 
In the cariere oft breake the riders neckes. 

[^Exii Hortensio.'\ 

[Scene vi.] 

[Padua. Brachiano' s Palace. '\ 

Enter Fit tor ia with a booke in her hand; Zanke ; 
Flamineoy following them. 

Flamineo. What, are you at your prayers ? 

Give o're. 
Vtttoria. How, ruffin ? 

Flam. I come to you 'bout worldly businesse : 
Sit downe, sit downe. Nay, stay, blouze, you 

may heare it ; 
The dores are fast inough. 

Vit. Ha, are you drunke? 

Flam. Yes, yes, with wormewood water; you 
shall tast 
Some of it presently. 

Vit, What intends the fury ? 

Flam. You are my lords executrix; and I 
claime 
Reward for my long service. 

Vit, For your service ? 

Scene vi. No scene marked In ^q. 

Enter . . . them. Clipped in AB (B. M.). In left margin. 



Scene VI] ^^t OT^itt SDetjll 167 

Flam. Come, therfore, heere is pen and inke ; 
set downe 
What you will give me. 

f^it. There. Sbee writes. 

Flam. Ha ! have you done already ? 10 

'Tis a most short convevance. 

Fit. I will read it. 

I give that portion to thee, and no other, 
Which Caine gron'd under, having slaine his 
brother. 
Flam. A most courtly pattent to beg by ! 
Fit. You are a villaine. 

Flam. Is't come to this ? The [y] say affrights 
cure agues : 15 

Thou hast a devill in thee ; I will try 
If I can scarre him from thee. Nay, sit still : 
My lord hath left me yet two case of jewels 
Shall make me scorne your bounty ; you shall 
see them. [-£';v//.] 

Fit. Sure, hee's distracted. 

"Lanche. O he's desperate ! 20 

For your owne safety give him gentle language. 
He enters with two case of pistols. 
Flamineo. Looke, these are better far at a 
dead lift. 
Then all your Jewell house. 

Shee ivrites. Clipped in A. In left margin. 

17 scarre. C, scare. 19 Exit. Supplied by C. 

He . . . pistols. A few letters clipped in A. 



1 68 Wi)t mUtt SDeiJil [act v. 

Fit, And yet, mee thinkes, 

These stones have no faire lustre, they are ill 
set. 

Flam, rie turne the right side towards you : 
you shall see 
How the[y] will sparkle. 

Fit. Turne this horror from mee ! 

What do you want ? what would you have mee 

doe? 
Is not all mine, yours ? have I any children ? 

Flam. Pray thee, good woman, doe not 
trouble mee 
With this vaine worldly businesse ; say your 

prayers. 
I made a vow to my deceased lord. 
Neither your selfe nor I should out-live him. 
The numbring of foure howers. 

Fit. Did he enjoyne it ? 

F/am. He did ; and 'twas a deadly jealousy. 
Least any should enjoy thee after him. 
That urg'd him vow me to it. For my death, 
I did propound it voluntarily, knowing 
If hee could not be safe in his owne court, 
Being a great duke, what hope then for us ? 

Fit. This is your melancholy and dispaire. 

Flam. Away ! 

Foole thou art to thinke that polititians 

41 Foo/e. A places a comma after this word. 



I 



Scene VI. ] ^j^^ M^ttf SDeiJll 1 69 

Do use to kill the effects of injuries 

And let the cause live. Shall we groane in irons, 

Or be a shamefull and a waighty burthen 

To a publicke scaffold ? This is my resolve : 45 

I would not live at any mans entreaty 

Nor dye at any's bidding. 

^^^' Will you heare me ? 

Flam. My life hath done service to other 



men : 



My death shall serve mine owne turne. Make 
you ready. 

Fit. Do you meane to die indeed ? 

Flam. With as much pleasure 50 

As ere my father gat me. 

^it' Are the dores lockt .? 

Zan. Yes, madame. 

Fit. Are you growne an atheist .? will you 
turne your body. 
Which is the goodly pallace of the soule. 
To the soules slaughter house .? O the cursed 

devill .^ 

Which doth present us with all other sinnes 
Thrice candied ore, despaire with gaule and 

stibium, 
fet we carouse it off, — Cry out for helpe! — 
^akes us forsake that which was made for man, 

58 Cry . . . helpe. A MS parenthesis in A (B. M. ) indicates 
rightly) an aside. 



170 Wt^t Wi\)iit 2r>ebil [act v. 

The world, to sinke to that was made for devils, 
Eternall darkenesse ! 

Zan. Helpe, helpe ! 

F/am. He stop your throate 

With winter plums. 

Fit. I prethee yet remember. 

Millions are now in graves, which at last day 
Like mandrakes shall rise shreeking. 

Flam. Leave your prating; 

For these are but grammaticall laments. 
Feminine arguments ; and they move me 
As some in pulpits move their auditory. 
More with their exclamation then sence 
Of reason or sound doctrine. 

Zan. Gentle madam, 

Seeme to consent, onely perswade him teach 
The way to death ; let him dye first. 

Fit. 'Tis good ; I apprehend it. — 
To kill one's selfe is meate that we must take 
Like pils, not chew't, but quickly swallow it ; 
The smart a'th wound, or weakenesse of the 

hand. 
May else bring trebble torments. 

Flam. I have held it 

A wretched and most miserable life. 
Which is not able to dye. 

Fit. O but frailty ! 

Yet I am now resolvM ; farewell, affliction ! 



Scene VI. ] tETije OTtjtte EDebil 1 7 1 

Behold, Brachiano, I that while you iiv'd 80 

Did make a flaming altar of my heart 

To sacrifice unto you, now am ready 

To sacrifice heart and all. Fare-well, Zanche ! 

Xan. How, madam ! do you thinke that I'le 
out-live you. 
Especially when my best selfe, Flamineo^ 85 

Goes the same voiage ? 

Flam. O most loved Moore ! 

Xan, Onely by all my love let me entreat 
you,— 
Since it is most necessary [one] of us 
Do violence on our selves, — let you or I 
Be her sad taster, teach her how to dye. 90 

Flam. Thou dost instruct me nobly: take 
these pistols. 
Because my hand is stain'd with bloud already : 
Two of these you shall levell at my brest^ 
Th' other gainst your owne, and so we'le dye 
Most equally contented. But first sweare 95 

Not to out-live me. 

Vit. and Xan. Most religiously. 

Flam. Then here's an end of me : fare- well, 
day-light ! 
And O contemtible physike, that dost take 
So long a study, onely to preserve 
So short a life, I take my leave of thee ! 100 

88 one. A, none. 



1 7 2 ®l)e M^ite Wttil [act v. 

These are two cupping-glasses, that Sheioingi 

shall draw pistols. 

All my infected bloud out. Are you ready ? 

Vit. and Zan. Ready. 

Flam. Whither shall I go now ? O Lucian, 
thy ridiculous purgatory ! to finde Alexander the 
Great cobling shooes, Pompey tagging points, i 
and Julius Caesar making haire buttons ; Hani- 
ball selling blacking, and Augustus crying gar- 
like ; Charlemaigne selling lists by the dozen, 
and King Pippin crying apples in a cart drawn 
with one horse ! i 

Whether I resolve to fire, earth, water, aire, 
Or all the elements by scruples, I know not 
Nor greatly care. — Shoote, shoote. 
Of all deaths the violent death is best, ^^O' ^^^^^^ ^ 
For from our selves it steales our selves ^!l^ad°uponhi 
so fast, J 

The paine, once apprehended, is quite past. 

Vit. What, are you drop't ? 

Flam. I am mixt with earth already. As you 
are noble, 
Performe your vowes, and bravely follow mee. 

Vit. Whither ? to hell ? 

Shewing the pistols. Clipped in AB. 
1 02 Are you ready? Ready. New line in Qq. 
103-110 Possibly as verse with lines ending in now, purgatory^ 
shooes^ CdEsar^ blacking, Charlemaigne, Pippin, horse. 
They . . . him. Clipped in AB ; supplied from C. 



I 



Scene VI ] ^^t Wi^tt 2E>et)il 173 

Zan. To most assured damnation? 1 20 

Fit. O thou most cursed devill ! 

Zan. Thou art caught 

Fit. In thine own engine. I tread the fire 
out 
That would have bene my ruine. 

F/jm. Will you be perjur'd ? what a religious 
oath was Stix, that the gods never durst swearei^s 
by and violate ! O that wee had such an oath to 
minister, and to be so well kept in our courts 
of justice ! 

Fit. Thinke whither thou art going. 

Zan. And remember 

What villanies thou hast acted. 

Fit. This thy death 130 

Shall make me, like a blazing ominous starre, 
Looke up and tremble. 

Flam. O I am caught with a springe ! 

Fit. You see the fox comes many times short 
home; 
'Tis here prov'd true. 

Flam. Kild with a couple of braches ! 

Fit. No fitter ofFring for the infernall Furies 135 
Then one in whom they raign'd while hee was 
living. 

Fiam. O the waies darke and horrid ! I can- 
not see. 
Shall I have no company ? 



I 



1 74 ^^t Wi\)itt SDetjil [Act v. 

Fit, O yes, thy sinnes 

Do runne before thee to fetch fire from hell, 
To light thee thither. 

Flam. O I smell soote, i 

Most s[t] inking soote, the chimnie is a fire! 
My livers purboil'd like scotch holly-bread ; 
There's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it 

scalds ! 
Wilt thou out-live mee ? 

Zan. Yes, and drive a stake 

Through thy body ; for w^e'le give it out 
Thou didst this violence upon thy selfe. 

Flam. O cunning devils ! now I have tri'd 
your love, 
And doubled all your reaches. I am not wounded ; 

Flamineo riseth. 
The pistols held no bullets : 'twas a plot 
To prove your kindnesse to mee ; and I live 
To punish your ingratitude. I knew. 
One time or other, you would finde a way 
To give me a strong potion. O men 
That lye upon your death-beds, and are haunted 
With howling wives, neere trust them ! they'le 

re-marry 
Ere the worme peirce your winding sheete, ere 
the spider j 

140 . . . soote. Begins next line m Qq. ■ ^ 

145 Through. Dyce, Thorough. 151 kneiv. BCD, know. 



Scene VI] tE^^t M^jite Wt\}il I J 5 

Make a thinne curtaine for your epitaphes. 
How cunning you were to discharge ! Do you 
practice at the Artillery yard ? Trust a woman ? 
never, never; Brachiano bee my president ! Wei 60 
lay our soules to pawne to the devill for a little 
pleasure, and a woman makes the bill of sale. 
That ever man should marry ! For one Hyper- 
mnestra that sav'd her lord and husband, forty 
nine of her sisters cut their husbands throatesi65 
all in one night. There was a shole of vertu- 
ous horse-leeches ! Here are two other instru- 
ments. 

Enfer Lod^oziico disguised as Carlo,!^ Gasp[aro dis- 
guised as Pedro. ^ 

Fit, Helpe, helpe ! 

Flam. What noise is that ? hah ! falce keies 
i'th court ! 

Lodovico. We have brought you a maske. 

Flam. A matachine, it seemes,i7o 

By your drawne swords. Church men turn'd 
revellers. 

Gasparo. Isabella, Isabella ! 

Lod. Doe you know us now ? 

^They throw off their disguises."^ 

160 president. Dyce, precedent. 

Enter . . . Pedro. A has Pedro, Carlo, as separate characters, 
to indicate that the disguises were still worn. 

172 Gasparo. Isabella. Speech assigned to Con. in AB j to Gas. 
in CD. ([^uery : Should not the speech Isabella^ Isabella ! be assigned 
to Lodovico and the following speech to Gasparo ? Cf. note, p. 205. 



1 76 ^j^t Wi^tt SDetjil [Act V. 



Flam, Lodovico and Gasparo ! ( 

Lod. Yes; and that Moore the duke gave | 

pention to | 

Was the great Duke of Florence. ! 

Fit. O wee are lost ! i: 

Flam. You shall not take justice from forth 

my hands, — 1 

let me kill her ! He cut my safty 

Through your coates of Steele. Fate's a spaniell, 
Wee cannot beat it from us. What remaines 

now ? ' 

Let all that doe ill, take this president : 18 

A^an may his fate foresee .^ but not prevent. 
And of all axiomes this shall winne the prise : 
'T/'j better to be fortunate then wise. 

Gas. Bind him to the pillar. 

Fit. O your gentle pitty ! 

1 have seene a black-bird that would sooner fly 18 
To a mans bosome then to stay the gripe 

Of the feirce sparrow-hawke. 

Gas. Your hope deceives you. 

Fit. If Florence be ith court, would hee 

would kill mee ! 
Gas. Foole ! princes give rewards with their 
owne hands, 
But death or punishment by the handes of 

others. 19c 

180 president. Dyce, precedent. 

188 ivould hee luould. BCD, he would not. 



Scene VI. ] t!^\)t Ml)itr WMl 1 7 7 

Zo^. Sirha, you once did strike mee : He strike 
you 
Into the center. 

Fiam. Thoul't doe it like a hangeman, a base 
hangman, 
Not like a noble fellow, for thou seest 
I cannot strike againe. 

Lod. Dost laugh ? 195 

Flam. Wouldst have me dye, as I was borne, 

in whining ? 
Gas. Recommend your selfe to heaven. 
Flam. Noe, I will carry mine owne commen- 
dations thither. 
Lod. Oh could I kill you forty times a day 
And us't foure yeere together, 'tweare to[o] 

little ! 200 

Naught greev's but that you are to[o] few to 

feede 
The famine of our vengeance. What dost thinke 
on ? 
Fiam. Nothing ; of nothing : leave thy idle 
questions ; 
I am i'th way to study a long silence ; 
To prate were idle ; I remember nothing. 205 

Thers nothing of so infinit vexation 
As mans owne thoughts. 

192 Into. BCD, Unto, 200 too. C corrects. 

a.01 gree'v'' s. Dyce, Hazlitt, grieves ; but greev^s is probably a 
contraction oi grie'ves us. too. D corrects. 



1 78 ari^e OTijite SDelJil [act v. 

Lod, O thou glorious strumpet, 

Could I devide thy breath from this pure aire 
When't leaves thy body, I would sucke it up 
And breath't upon some dunghill ! 

^^^' You, my deaths man ! ai 

Me thinkes thou doest not looke horrid enough, 
Thou hast to[o] good a face to be a hang-man : 
If thou be, doe thy office in right forme j 
Fall downe upon thy knees and aske forgive- 



Lod. O thou hast bin a most prodigious 
comet, 21 

But He cut of[f] your traine ! kill the Moore 
first. 
Vit, You shall not kill her first : behould 
my breast : 
I will be waited on in death j my servant 
Shall never go before mee. 
Gas. Are you so brave ? 
Vit. Yes ; I shall wellcome death zzi 

As princes doe some great embassadors ; 
He meete thy weapon halfe way. 

Lod. Thou dost tremble ; 

Mee thinkes feare should dissolve thee into ayre. 
Vit. O thou art deceived, I am to [o] true a 
woman : 

212 too. C corrects. zi6 off. C corrects. 

221-22 As . . . iveapon. One line in Qq. 



Scene VL] tE^f^t Mtjltf WMl 1 79 

Conceit can never kill me. He tell thee what, 225 
I will not in my death shed one base teare ; 
Or if looke pale, for want of blood, not feare. 

Gas. Thou art my taske, blacke fury. 

Zan. I have blood 

As red as either of theirs ; wilt drinke some ? 
'Tis good for the falling-sicknesse. I am proud 23° 
Death cannot alter my complexion. 
For I shall neere looke pale. 

Lod. Strike, strike, 

With a joint motion. 

[^Tbey stab Fittoria, Zanche, and Flamineo,'] 

Fit. 'Twas a manly blow ! 

The next thou giv'st, murder some sucking in- 
fant. 
And then thou wilt be famous. 

Flam. O what blade ist }^^s 

A Toledo, or an English fox. 
I ever thought a cutler should distinguish 
The cause of my death, rather then a doctor. 
Search my wound deeper : tent it with the 

Steele 
That made it. 

Fit. O my greatest sinne lay in my blood ! 240 

Now my blood paies for't. 

Flam. Th'art a noble sister ; 

228 Thou . . . fury. Assigned to Carlo in A, 
240 TAat made it. Ends preceding line in Qq. 



1 80 tClje WSif)itt U>Mi [Act v. 

I love thee now ! if woeman doe breed man, i; 
Shee ought to teach him manhood : fare thee 

well. ■ 

Know, many glorious woemen that are fam'd 
For masculine vertue, have bin vitious, 24 

Onely a happier silence did betyde them : 
Shee hath no faults, who hath the art to hide 

them. 
Fit. My soule, like to a ship in a blacke 

storme. 
Is driven I know not whither. 

Flam. Then cast ancor. 

"Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming cleere,25« 
"But seas doe laugh, shew white, when rocks 

are neere. 
" Wee cease to greive, cease to be fortunes 

slaves, 
" Nay, cease to dye, by dying. Art thou gonne ? 
And thou so neare the bottome ? falce reporte. 
Which saies that woemen vie with the nine 

Muses 25J 

For nine tough durable lives ! I doe not looke 
Who went before, nor who shall follow mee ; 
Noe, at my selfe I will begin and end. 
"While we looke up to heaven, wee con- 
found 
" Knowledge with knowledge. O I am in a 

mist ! 260 



Scene VL] W\)t 'M^Ut "mMl l8l 

Fit. O happy they that never saw the court, 
" Nor ever knew great man but by report ! 

Fittoria dyes. 
Flam. I recover like a spent taper, for a flash. 
And instantly go out. 

Let all that belong to great men remember th'265 
ould wives tradition, to be like the lyons ith 
Tower on Candlemas day, — to mourne if the 
sunne shine, for feare of the pittifull remainder 
of wmter to come. 
'Tis well yet there's some goodnesse in my 

death ; 270 

My life was a blacke charnell : I have caught 
An everlasting could. I have lost my voice 
Most irrecoverably. Farewell glorious villaines ! 
" This busie trade of life appeares most vaine, 
" Since rest breeds rest, where all seeke paine by 

paine. 275 

Let no harsh flattering bels resound my knell ; 
Strike thunder, and strike lowde, to my farewell ! 

Dyes. 
Enter Embassad\or~\ and Giovanni. 
English Ambassador. This way, this way ! 

breake ope the doores ! this way ! 
Lod. Ha ! are wee betraid ? 

261-62 . . . report. S^ery : should not this speech be as- 
signed to Zanche ? In this event, the stage direction of Vittoria's 
death should be placed after line 249. 262 man. BCD, men. 

271 caught. A, cought. 



1 8 2 tD^ije WH\)itt SDetjil [ act v. 

Why, then lets constantly dye all together ; 2 
And having iinisht this most noble deede, 
Defy the worst of fate ; not feare to bleed. 
£ng. Am, Keepe backe the prince; shoot, 
shoot ! \They wound LodovicoA 

Lod. O I am wounded ! 

I feare I shall be tane. 

Giovanni, You bloudy villaines, 

By what authority have you committed a; 

This massakre ? 

Lod, By thine. 

GiO' Mine ? 

Lod, Yes ; thy unckle, 

Which is a part of thee, enjoyn'd us to't : 
Thou knowst me, I am sure; I am Cou[n]t 

Lodowicke, 
And thy most noble unckle in disguise 
Was last night in thy court. 
Gio, Ha! 

Lod. Yes, that Moore 29 

Thy father chose his pentioner. 

Glo. He turn'd murderer ! — 

Away with them to prison and to torture ! 
All that have hands in this shall tast our justice, 
As I hope heaven. 

286 Te^', thy unckle. Begins following line in AB. Ya ends 
preceding line in CD. 287 h a part. BCD, is part. 

290-91 Tes . . . pentioner. One line in Qq. 



Scene VI.] ^f)t OTitjlte HOetJll 1 83 

Lod. I do glory yet, 

That I can call this act mine owne. For my 

part, 
The racke, the gallowes, and the torturing 295 

wheele, 
Shall bee but sound sleepes to me ; here's my 

rest : 
" I limb'd this night-peece and it was my best. 
Gio. Remove the bodies. See, my honoured 
lord[s]. 
What use you ought make of their punishment. 300 
Let guilty men remember their blacke deedes 
Do leane on crut\_c^hes made of slender reedes. 

\_Exeufft.'\ 



Instead of an Epilogue, onely this of 
Martial supplies me : 

Hisc fuerint nobis pnemia si placui. 

For the action of the play, twas generally 
well, and I dare affirme, with the joint testimony 

299-302 Remo-ve . . . reedes. Mr. Greg suggests that this 
speech be assigned to the English Ambassador. lords. Qq, Lord j 
Dyce, lords. 

Instead . . . me. Not in CD. 

Hac . . . placui. In CD this quotation follows the last line of 
the play, and is followed by Finis. 

For . . . and end. Not in CD. 



1 84 



Wt\t OTlljite SDebil 



I 



of some of their owne quality, for the true imi- 
tation of life, without striving to make nature 
a monster, the best that ever became them : '5 
whereof as I make a generall acknowledgment, 
so in particular I must remember the well ap- 
proved industry of my freind Maister Perkins, 
and confesse the worth of his action did crowne 
both the beginning and end. o 



FINIS, 



0ott& to tl^e W^itt JBtUl 

For the meaning of single ivords see the Glossary. 

3, 3. nos . . . nihil. Tf^e knonv that these things are no- 
thing. Martial, xiii. 2. 

3, 5. theater. Mr. Fleay thinks the Curtain ; Dyce, the 
Phoenix. Cf. note on Maister Perkins, p. 206. 

3, 13. Nec . . . molestaS. Touivill not fear the jeers of 
the malicious^ nor furnish nvrappers for fish (/. e. your manuscript 
will not be used as waste paper). Martial, iv. 87. 

3, 16. non . . . dixi. You cannot say more against my trifles 
than I have said myself . Martial, xiii. 2. 

3, 19. sententious tragedy. Sententiousness was charac- 
teristic particularly of Senecan tragedy. 

3, 22. life'n . . . Nuntius. To the nuntius (messenger) 
in classic tragedy often fell the task of describing the death of one 
or more of the characters : his impassioned description might make 
even death seem alive. 

4, 24. O . . . ilia. Oh the strong digestion of reapers ! 
Horace, Ep. iii. 

4,28. Hsec . . . relinques. These you ivi II leave for the 
pigs to eat to-day. Horace, Epist. i. vii. 19. 

4, 32. answer . . . Alcestides. The story is told by 
Valerius Maximus, iii. 7 (Dyce). 

4, 53. non . . . mori. These ivorks knoiv not hoiv to die. 
Martial, x. 2. Dekker ends his preface to A Knights Conjuring 
(? 1607) with the same quotation. 

5> I- Scire . . . sales. Would you knoiv luhat a ivoman 
isf ivith lu hat gadfly she stings you? Here you are, ifyouve ivit 
to understand them, — a thousand ivitty sayings. 

5. J. Wilson. In all probability, this is John Wilson, the 
Restoration dramatist, whose plays were first collected in 1874 by 
Maidment and Logan. 



1 86 jliote0 

7, 2. thy . . . punishment. Opposed to all the known 
sayings of Democritus. Cf. especially Zeller (^History of Greek 
Philoiophy, 1 88 1 trans.) ii, 277 ff. The title of ' laughing philo- 
sopher ' may have led Webster into thinking of Democritus as 
a mocker. A song in The Nice Valour (v. i.) has this line : 

' Democritus, thou ancient fleerer.' 

8, 21. caviare. A great delicacy and novelty among Web- 
ster's contemporaries. Cf. Giles Fletcher's Of the Russe Common- 
ivealth (1591), and Hamlet^ 11. ii. 416. Sometimes a quadrisyl- 
lable. 

9, 31. murders. Lodovico had killed Vincenzo Vitelli, 

9, 40. Brachiano. The Italian is * Bracciano ' : Webster's 
spelling therefore indicates the soft English, not the hard Italian, 
pronunciation of chi. 

9, 44. duke. Brachiano. 

9, 44. Have . . . you. Be manful. 

10, 47. Perfumes . . . sents. Cf. D. M. m. v. 73. 
10, 50. painted comforts, false consolations. 

12, 24. where a satiety. Dyce's emendation, * whereas 
satiety,' is probably correct. Dyce also notes Marston's earlier use 
of the same idea : * Fie on this satietie, 'tis a dul, blunt, weary, 
and drowsie passion' [Faivne, iv. i. 107). 

12, 32. could . . . liver. Devoid of passion, impotent. 

12, 33. feathers. The plumes struck from the helmets. 

12, 34. Irish . . . naked. Reed notes a comment in 
Barnaby Rich's ^ neiv description of Ireland (161 o), p. 38, con- 
cerning ' a certaine brotherhood called by the name of Karrowes, ' 
who would wager the clothing upon their backs, rather than cease 
gaming. 

14, 72. boule bootie. Bowl to lose at first, in order that 
the adversary may be led to continue playing ; ' drawing him on.' 

14, 72. his . . . mistris. His bowl is so weighted or 
shaped (' bias ' applies to both notions) that it will roll to the mark. 
In the game of bowls, one ball (the * mistress ' or the 'jack ') serves 
as the object-ball j the other balls are so made as to roll in a curve 
(bias) and thus to pass whatever obstacles might lie in a straight 
line between the bowler and the object-ball. Not to be confused 
with the game of ten-pins (skittles). The word 'cheek' is a 



I 



0OttSi 187 



puzzle : its literal meaning does not explain the line. Possibly the 
French cAiyue, a small ball or marble, provides a clue j or again, 
'check,' a falconry term for swerving aside, may be the reading' 

IS, 75' Despight . . . Aristotle. Illogically. 

15, 76. Ephemerides. John Searles, in ^« Ephemeris for 
nineyeeres (1609) defines thus: 'Ephemerides are tables of the 
caelestial motions, calculated for a time and place certaine, shewing 
the motions of all the planets in longitude and latitude, as also all 
other cofigurations and passions, for every day in theyeare.' Jupiter 
and Venus were good (' smiling ') planets ; Saturn and Mars evU : 
Sol, Mercury, and Luna, indifferent. 

15, 83. horne-shavings. One of the innumerable Eliza- 
bethan references to the horns of cuckolds. 

15, 84. Might I advise, etc. Flamineo's advice seems de- 
rived from Ariosto's fourth Satire. The English translation of the 
Satires 1608, was by R. Tofte, although attributed to Gervase 
Markham. The poet tells how to keep a wife chaste, and Flamineo 
teasingly reverses the suggestions. 

' The danger's in the house when thou art forth. 

' To go to feasts and weddings mongst the best, 
Is not amisse : for there suspect is least. 
Nor is it meet, that she the Church refraine, 
Sith there is vertue, and her noble traine.' 

16, 93. night-cap wringes. Cf. West-ward Hoe, I. i. 
10,105. last jubilee. The year 1600. 

16, III. perspective. Reginald Scot, The dhco-verie of 
-witchcraft {^1^^%^), bk. xiii. ch. xix, remarks that « the wonderous 
deuises, and miraculous sights and conceipts made and conteined in 
glasse, doo farre exceed all other j whereto the art perspectiue is 
verie necessarie. ' Among the illusions are those caused by glasses, 
* where one image shall seeme to be one hundred.' 

17, 131. bill. The bill of the European blackbird is yellow. 

17, 136. any meanes. All means. 

18, 140. carved. A function of the mistress of an Eliza- 
bethan house. Cf. also. Comedy of Error i, 11. ii. 119. 

18, 154, glasse-house. Webster makes a number of re- 
ferences to this glass-house, which stood very near to the Black- 



1 88 jliote0 

friars' theatre, the site being marked to-day by Glass House Yard 
and Play House Yard. In A Knights Conjuring (1607), Dekker 
says of hell, . . * like the Glasse-house Furnace in Blacke-friers, 
the bone-fires that are kept there, never goe out.' 

19, 170. philosophers stone. The elixir whose property 
was to change baser metals into gold. 

19, 180. nayles . . . necessitie. This recalls the ada- 
mant (diamond) spindle of Necessity which held together the celes- 
tial spheres in the vision of Er (Plato's Republic^ x. ). 

20, 192. quae . . . grata. Things refused are pleasing. 
20, 202. silkeworme. Silkworm references recall the 

planting of mulberry trees in England by Verton in 1609, in the 
hope of encouraging silkworm culture. Cf. Halliwell-Phillipps, 
Outlines^ p. 119. 

20, 207. I . . . steale. I shall find you stealing. 

21, 226. curst dogges. *A curst curre must be tied 
short.' Ray's Pro-verbs, 1670. Cf. Glossary. 

23,264. crosse-sticks. Perhaps crosses stuck in the grave j 
the expression is unfamiliar. 

23, 268. Eu. The double meaning of Eu (yew) and you 
(Brachiano) is now obvious. 

24, 288. flegmaticke. Cf. note on 'humour,' Gloss. 

25, 301. Thessaly. Regarded as a home of magic. 

26, 323. great mens. This construction is sufficiently in 
keeping with Webster's style to make Dyce's punctuation unneces- 
sary. Cf. D, M. I. ii. 156; V. V. 70-71. 

27, 329. Doctor Julio. Cf. note on TV. D. v. iii. 166, 
p. 202. 

27, 339- stirop. Cf. D. M. m. ii. 234. 

28, 354. retaine . . . forehead. Be womanish. 

28, 367. Lycurgus . . . barren. Cf. Plutarch's life of 
Lycurgus. 

31, 14. unicornes home. A powder used as an antidote ; 
reputed to be made of the horn of the fabulous animal. Cf Sir 
Thomas Browne's Vulgar Errors^ in. xxiii. The spider's inability 
to leave the circle would show the power of the substance to resist 
poison. 

32, 46. fetch . . . about. Refuse to fly their game to 



i^otefif 189 

mark ; turn tail. Cf. Markham, Countrey Contentments [161^) j 
p. 94. 

33} 53- tennis. Not lawn-tennis, but the game played in an 
enclosed court. 

33, 61. Switzers. In his translation of Ariosto's second 
Satire, Tofte has this gloss : * The Swizzers ... are a race of 
men naturally warlik & rude. . , . They are free of themselves 
... & wil be hired of any Prince for money to fight in their 
warres, be it right or wrong they never respect the same, so they 
be well paid, and have their pay truely.' 

34, 76. Then . . . plaisters. Francisco implies that 
Brachiano will suflFer from disease j seemingly a reference to the 
ulcerous malady which afflicted the real Brachiano. Howell, in 
Forreine Tra-vell (1642), ch. xiv., notes as a common hyperbole the 
statement that every Frenchman carries a * box of playsters.' 

34, 78. Your . . . defiance. Your forehead new- 
ploughed with the wrinkles of your defiant frown. 

35, 92. tale of a tub. An idle story. 

35, 94- When . . . melancholike. An allusion to 
the notion that the stag shed tears when near his death. Cf. Ai 
Tou Like It, 11. i. 39. 

36, no. Homers frogges. A famous comic poem, Ba- 
trachomyomtacbia (the Battle of the Frogs and Mice), was attributed 
to Homer. 

37, 118. danske. Dantzig, sometimes spelt * Dantske * 
in Webster's time. Usually explained as * Danish,' but without any 
obvious reason. 

37, 124. lap-wing . . . head. A familiar allusion to 
precocity. Cf. Meres, Palladh Tamia (1598), p. 445 T. W., 
Optick G/asse of Humors (1605), preface j Hamlet , v. ii. 193 ; 
jippius and Virginia, I. i. 

38, 140. Isabella. * Camillo,' the reading of ABC, is a 
less pointed reading than * Isabella,' whose re-entrance is provided 
for in 1. 10 of this scene. 

40, 160. Italian. Because jealousy was so rife in Italy. 

41, 179. corpulent duke. In the actual story, it is 
Brachiano, not Francisco, who is corpulent. 

41, 181. Rackit . . . tenis. High stakes at tennis were 



190 il^Otffl? 

not infrequent. Cf. D. M. i. i. 173 5 and Julian Marshall, Annals 
of Tennis (1878), pp. 63, 67. There was a tennis-court in 1615, 
according to Petworth, within a few steps of the Blackfriars' play- 
house (Marshall, p. 80). 

41, 183. shav'd Pollake. The Poles, according to Fynes 
Moryson's Itinerary (16 1 7), shaved the greater part of the head, 
(^uery : may not the 'sleaded pollax ' of Hamlet^ i. i. 63, be 
* shaved pollacks ' ? 

44, 243. whip . . . scorpions. Cf. 2 Chron. x. 11 ; 
D. M. II. V. 73. 

45, 261. manet . . . repostum. // shall be treasured 
up in the depths of {my) mind, ^neid^ i. 26. 

46, 275. Those . . . speake. Steevens recalls Seneca's 
Curae le-ves loquuntur^ ingentes stupent {Hippol. 607), and Macbeth^ 
IV. iii. 209. 

46, 281. stibium. Antimony. Used anciently to make the 
eyes seem larger and brighter. Cf. Pliny, xxxiii. vi. 

46, 286. but . . . Candy. Perhaps in the sense of hav- 
ing him * preserved.' Some mocking jest is obviously intended. 
Cf. D. M. I. i. 294. 

47, 295. COSin'd . . . execution. In order to escape 
whipping for lechery, the doctor pretended that he was in debt, and 
an execution was levied upon him ; then some worse knave than 
himself saw to it that the pretended debt was collected in full, 

47, 299. cornet. Perhaps the old cornet of oboe shape 
{Cent. Diet.). The editor's query, * coney,' finds in Holland's 
Pliny VIII. Iv. this support : ' Archelaus writeth. That looke how 
many receptables and waies of passage, the Hare hath for his dung 
and excrements, so many yeares old he is just.' 

47, 302. Ireland . . . poyson. By reason of St. Pat- 
rick's extermination of the reptiles in Ireland. 

48, 322. gallouses . . . shoulders. Callouses (gal- 
lows) has here its rare use of criminal or gallows-bird. The refer- 
ence is to placing the condemned man on the shoulders of another 
man, who then steps aside, leaving the prisoner hanging. 

48, 329. Inopem . , . fecit. Abundance makes me desti- 
tute. Ovid, Metamorphoses^ iii. 466. 

50, 359. change . . . aire. Leave this place. 



53, 14. curtail. Reed notes the allusion to Banks's famous 
trick-horse, Morocco, often referred to by London writers of the 
early seventeenth century. Cf North-ward Ho^ iv. i. 

53, 19- were . . . Lattine. Were subject to call here 
and there, merely upon the uttering of some empty Latin phrases. 
Fast and loose is described, as Mr. Craig notes, in Reginald Scot. 
It is a trick game with a handkerchief or belt, the point being that 
a knot or loop which seems tied fast is really loose. Hence the ex- 
pression came to mean now here, now there, inconstant. 

55, 35. polliticke. Because more artfully managed, leav- 
ing no traces of the crime. 

56, 52. this. This service rendered by the conjurer's art. 

58, II. in . . . weeke. Cf. Loves Labour ''s Lost ^ v. ii. 
61. Schmidt explains it as a reference to the hiring of servants by 
the week. Thomas Draxe in his Bibliotheca Scholastica Instructis- 
sima or Treasurie of Ancient Adagies, etc. (1633) gives the expression 
under the heading ' Of Carnall Love. ' Obviously, then, it had 
more than one meaning. Cf. also Roister Doister^ i. ii. 4, 

59, 28. conyes. Holland's Pliny, viii. Iv. notes that 'Fer- 
rets are in great account for chasing and hunting of these Connies.' 
For the double entendre^ ' swindle ' ; cf Glossary. 

59, 31. woman . . . won. Cf Sharpham, Cupid's 
Whirligig (1607) sig, C2 : 'The French prouerbe sales, Fame 
haissee est demie ioyee, a woman kis'd is halfe inioyed.' Cf Cross- 
ing of Pro'verbs (161 6), and Ray's Proverbs (1737). Mr. Craig 
notes a similar Romany proverb in Leland's English Gipsies^ 3d ed., 
p. 108. Webster probably found it in Belle-Forest. 

60, 48. wealth . . . captaines. Cf. North-ward Ho^ 
V. i. : * whose reward is not the rate of a captain newly come out 
of the Low Countries . . . some angel ' (/. e. eight or ten shil- 
lings). 

61, 57. builder oke. Chaucer, Parlement of Foules, lj(> ; 
Spenser, Faerie ^eene, i. i. 8. Can builder oak here mean 
gallows ? Mandrakes (see next line) grew under gallows. Cf. 
Browne, Vulgar Errors, il. vi. 

62, 80. sleepes . . . poulter. Because the poulterers 
rode in to market so early in the morning. 

63, 10. Domine . . . corruptissimam. Sir Judge, 

turn your eyes upon this plague, the most corrupt of women. 



192 j^teg 



63, 14. Webster deftly arouses a sympathy with Vittoria by 
means of her objection to a trial in Latin. 

641 ^4' give aime. The man who stood by the mark 
cried out to the archers how near their arrows came : this was to 
* give aim ' or to * cry aim.' 

65, 38. stones . . . phisicke. Gervase Markham's 
Cheape and Good Husbandry (2d ed., 1 61 6), p. 1 60, tells how 
to give hawks stones, seven to fifteen fine white pebbles from a 
river. 

65, 39. to. In comparison with. 

65, 40. tropes . . . figures. The distinction, now usu- 
ally ignored, is that tropes are words used out of literal meaning, 
and figures are words used out of ordinary construction. 

66, 64. apples . . . ashes. Reed quotes from 1725 ed. 
of Sir John Maundeville's Tra-veh. The passage in the 1568 edi- 
tion reads : . . ' and there about grow trees that beare fruite of 
faire colour and seme rype, but whan a man breaketh them or cut 
them, he findeth nought in them, but coales or asshes, in tokening 
that throughe the vengaunce of God, these cities were brent with 
the fyre of hell' (sig. E5). 

67, 71. scarlet. The color of the legal faculty, or perhaps 
here of the cardinal's vestments. 

67, 80. Sweete . . . eater. Dyce notes Dekker's 

' What gives she me i good words, 
Sweet meates that rotte the eater.' 

Whore of Babylon (1607). 

67, 86. tributes . . . payed. Howel, Familiar Letters 
(Letter vii. from Amsterdam, 1619): ' 'Twere cheap living here, 
were it not for the monstrous Accises which are impos'd upon all 
sorts of Commodities both for Belly and Back ; for the Retailer 
payes the States almost the one Moity as much as he payed for the 
Commodity at first.' 

68, 96. bodies . . . gallovres. At this time the Barber- 
Surgeons' society was entitled to a certain number of bodies of 
criminals who had been hanged at Tyburn. Cf. Stow's Annates 
(1631), ch. xxix. pp. 1078, 1079. 

68, 1 01. carracter. Accent on penult, as doubtless also in 
line 79. 



#ote0 193 

69, 115. rushes. The floors were covered with rushes, 
which, in this instance, must have been strewn thick. 

69, 118. wound up. In a shroud. 

70, 127, Christian. Here, ecclesiastical as well as civilized. 

70, 134. Portia's. Whether Dyce or Hazlitt have the cor- 
rect version of Mitford's emendation, * Portia's ' seems much better 
than * Portia.' ' Perseus ' is obviously wrong. If Webster's refer- 
ence be to Portia, it is Cato's daughter, not the heroine of the 
Merchant of Venice, as Hazlitt and Wurzbach naively assume. 
Cf. D. M. IV. i. 70. 

72, 173. that . . . challenge. Who will claim as his 
own. 

72, 179. Nemo . . . lacessit. No one injures me iv'tth 
impunity. 

73, 185. husband-men . . them. Ci.W. D.m.m. 121. 
73, 194. appoticaries summer-house. This detail has 

probably no part in Webster's original, but is doubtless a reference 
to the Elizabethan use of summer-houses as places of rendezvous. 

73, 200. Casta . . . rogavit. She\ chaste ivhom no one's 
tempted. Ovid, Amorum, i. viii. 43. 

75, 228. as loving. As curious. 

75, 234. descended . . . Vittelli. There is no author- 
ity for this statement. Webster seems to have drawn the name 
from an incidental personage in the original story : Lodovico had 
murdered a Vitelli. Cf. W. £). i. i. 31. 

76, 247. Ryalto talke. Talk of the town. As the Rialto 
was the Exchange of Venice, Webster uses the word figuratively. 

76, 249. vice . . . silent. Vice is often so loudly praised, 
that preachers, under the spell of the moment (* charm'd'), do not 
realize that they should attack the special evil. 

77, 261. biasing starres. Comets and eclipses were re- 
garded as ominous. Cf. Lear, i. ii. 112-117; Hamlet, \. \. 117- 
125 ; JV. D. v. iii. 31; V. vi. 13I} Dr. Furness's note. Variorum 
Lear, p. 51. 

77, 271. By patent. An allusion to the frequent granting 
of monopolies by letters-patent in the time of James I. 

78, 278. That . . . before. Because he would have died 
unrepentant. 



194 il^otesi 

78, 280. horse-lech . . . treason. An insatiable per- 
son (cf. Glossary 5 also Pro-verbs, xxx. 15) would be very ready 
with words : perhaps this is Webster's allusion. Cf. 11. 306-7 of 
this scene. 

82, 7. fourtie . . . Poland. During the seventeenth cen- 
tury, swarms of Irish and Scotch peddlers came to Poland, and en- 
gaged in the Oriental trade. The Lithuanian word for peddler is 
' szatas ' (Scot) . 

82, 10. Venice. The disease referred to was supposed to 
have come from Italy, more particularly from Naples, although the 
' French disease ' was the more familiar name. Cf. Wm. Clowes, 
Morbus Gallicus (1585). 

83, 32. under . . . line. Under the equator. 
83> 34- 'weights. Those used in torture chambers. 
84,43. pull . . . peeces. Because of disease. 

84, 56. mushromes . . . dunghill. The same image 
of parvenus occurs in The De-viPs Law-Case, iv. ii. 

84, 59. Wolnor. Reed refers to Thomas Moufet (Muf- 
fett, Moffet) who, in Health'' s Impro'vement (1655), mentions 
' Woolmar, ' the famous sixteenth century glutton who could ' eate 
Iron, glass, oistershels,' etc., but who ' by eating a raw eel was 
over-mastered. ' 

85, 80. dog-daies . . . long. Lodovico returns the false 
compliment of Flamineo, by wishing for the latter a whole year 
of unpleasant and unlucky days. 

86, 91. melancholike. Cf. note on 'humour,' Gloss. 
The hare is traditionally melancholy, 

86, 93. couple greve. As Flamineo is feigning madness, 
this expression need not be taken literally. Dyce is puzzled to know 
what ' couple ' is meant, as Francisco and Monticelso are not on 
the stage. But * greve ' is Flamineo's mad word for ' laugh,' and 
the ' couple ' may likewise be the solitary Marcello : or perhaps 
Gasparo and Antonelli, who speak later, have come in sightj this, 
however, is doubtful. 

86, 98. To . . . face. To ' make up* one's face. 

88, 116. Though . . . letchery. Though it be de- 
lightful, 

90, 2. loose . . . haire. Customary about this period, as 
Steevens notes. 



iliotesf 195 

92, 49. taking . . . commodities. Reed notes 

Thomas Wilson's Discourse upon usurie (second ed. 1584). The 
passage reads (f. 99 verso) : ' In the third part I will open divers con- 
tracts and bargaines that are vsed to auoide vsurie. I have neede of 
money, and deale vv^ith a broker, hee answereth me, that he cannot 
helpe me with money, but if I liste to haue wares I shall speede. 
Well my necessitie is great, he bringeth mee blotting paper, pack- 
threed, fustian, chamlets, haukes bels, and hoods, or I wot not 
what : I desire him to make sale for mine aduantage, asking what 
he thinketh will be my losse, he answereth not past twelue pound 
in the hundred. When I come to receiue, I do finde that I loose 
more than twentie in the hundred . . . this is called a double 
staccado, that is to sale, the sticking blowe, or the double stab.' 
Cf. Dekker's Se'ven Deadly Sif2s (1606). 

92, 51. Onely , . . children. To use the occasion as 
an opportunity to palm off, at exorbitant prices, * commodities ' 
upon the person thus trapped. 

93, 56. scriveners . . . reportage. Scriveners who 

drew up the papers in terms unduly favorable to the usurers. 

93, 69. tribute . . . England. A tribute of three 
hundred wolves' skins annually was imposed on the Welsh by 
King Edgar. Cf. William of Malmesbury, 11. vi. Reed refers to 
Drayton's Polyolbion^ ix. 

96, 116. tragedy . . . passe. An interesting allusion 
to the popular appreciation of the mixture of grave and gay in 
Elizabethan drama. 

96, 117. I . . . Corombona. This is said in irony, but 
it explains the nature of the false love-letter Francisco is writing to 
Vittoria. 

97, 132. With . . . lure. The lure was a decoy bird 
attached to a cord and flung into the air to attract the attention of 
the falcon and induce it to return. 

97, 134. ^A^ild Irish. Moryson {Itinerary^ 1617) uses this 
expression regularly. 

97, 136. Flectere . . . movebo. If I cannot prevail 
upon the high gods, I ivi/l mo've the gods of the nether ivorld. 
^neid, vii. 312. 

98, 4. Pope . . . death-bed. Gregory XIII. (1502- 



19^ iPoteflf 

1585), whose bull of 158a established the Gregorian calendar. He 
died 10 April. 

99, 20. coffind . . . meate. Covered by the crust of a meat 
pie. The expression is a not unusual one of the period. 

99, 23. jugling. Probably trisyllabic. 

99» 35- 'willow. Traditionally sacred to rejected lovers, 

99, 37. Rotten . . . bed -straw. Referring to fruit 
thus ripened. 

99, 38. all . . . convinces ; /. e. the line that follows 
surpasses all the verses of antiquity. 

100, 40. let's . . . atheists. Atheistic, because having 
just uttered the ungodly sentiment that princes do not grow old. 

100, 46. disease. Cf. fV. D. i. ii. 33. 

100, 47. changeable . . . water. An image drawn 
from watered silk, * moire.' 

101, 55. I . . . Russia. Cf. Edward Webbe's Trauailes 
(i 590), p. 1 7 (Arber's ed.). Reed notes a passage in Giles Fletch- 
er's Russe Common Wealth (15 91) descriptive of the punishment 
inflicted upon debtors : * You shall see fortie or fiftie stand together 
on the Pra-veush [the place of punishment], all on a rowe, and 
their shinnes thus becudgelled, and bebasted every morning with a 
piteous crie.' 

loi, 61. Spanish . . . sallet. Cf. JV. D. v. ill. 167. 

Poisons were thus given. Cf Tofte's Ariosto, Sat. vi. : 

' Or that Masse Baptist doth strong poison mix 
Amongst his Phisick, whilst (through trechery) 
His Spanish figs kils vs vnnaturally.' 

101, 62. plie . . . convoy. Attend to your office of con- 
voy to your sister. 

102. Act IV. Scene iii. Strictly speaking, this new 
scene is part of the preceding scene : but the traverse is drawn, dis- 
covering Vittoria to Brachiano and Flamineo. 

102,3. receiver. Seemingly in the sense of * procurer. ' 

102, II. reclaimed . . . bels. The imagery of this 
speech is drawn from falconry. In training a young bird to return, 
it was drawn back (* reclaimed ') by a cord. To each leg was 
attached a bell, one a semi-tone in pitch above the other. 

103, 17. devill . . . Christall. In The Dhcoverie of 



j^otesf 197 

Witchcraft (1584), xv. ch. xii., Reginald Scot gives an elaborate 
direction (observances, fasting, prayers, circles, conjurations) how to 
enclose a spirit in a * christall stone or berill glasse,' to the end 
that the spirit may do one's bidding. Chapter xvi. gives another 
form of conjuration to make a spirit ' appeare in a christall . . . 
in faire forme of a boy of twelve yeares of age.' Here the appli- 
cation is to Vittoria's fair looks, but evil nature. 

103, 25. funeralls . . . Irish. Bamabe Rich in A Neiv 
Description of Ireland (1610) quotes Stanihurst : 'They follow 
the dead corps to the grave with howling and barbarous out-cries, 
pittiful in apparance, whereof grew (as I suppose) the proverbe : To 
tveep Irish.^ 

104, 46. Go . . , brag. As in D. M. i. ii. 155. 

105, 60. weepe poniardes. Cf. Hamlet^ m. ii. 414 : * I 

will speak daggers.' 

105, 62. matches. The reading ' matchless ' of all editions 
since the first, is not necessary 5 the original reading finds support 
in Appius and Virginia^ iii. ii. : 

* Virginia. But she hath a matchless eye, sir. 
Corbulo. True, her eyes not right matches.' 

107, 98. forgetfull wine. The same expression occurs in 
A Cure for a Cuckold^ iii. i, 

107, loi. Bee . . . cannon. If I have your love, let the 
world do what it will. 

108, 108. great bridge. The later variant, * London- 
Bridge,' merely explains the obvious allusion. London Bridge could 
be ' shot ' safely by the watermen when the tide was high or low. 
When it turned, the rush of water made the passage dangerous. 
For an interesting modern description, cf. Borrow's La-vengro, ch. 
xxxi. 

108, 118. dog . . . rewarded. Cf. D. M. i. i. 65. 

109, 130. Stay . . . Rome. The speech, as it stands, 
has no meaning. Dyce's emendation does not help much. 

109, 136. Pope . . . dead. No other announcement 
than this is made of the death of Pope Gregory XIII. 

109, 137. conclave. The conclave lasted three days, 22- 
24 April, 1585. 



198 #ote0 

no, 148. The crocodile. This story is told by Herodotus 
(ii. 68) and by Pliny (viii. 25), neither of whom speaks of the 
ingratitude of the reptile. The bird was called TrochUus. 

110,152. barbor-SUrgeon. The guild of barber-surgeons 
was not dissolved until 1745. 

111. Without the Vatican. Sixtus V. was chosen Pope 
in the Sistine Chapel. 

112, 7. severall orders. Howell in his Lexicon Tetraglot- 
ton (1659) gives brief notes upon the various European orders. The 
Knights of Rhodes sprang from the Hospitallers of St. John, es- 
tablished in the eleventh century : the ' silver crosse ' is that of 
Malta. The order of St. Michael was instituted by Louis XI. in 
1469 ; that of the Golden Fleece by Philippe le Bon in 1429 ; 
that of the Holy Ghost by Henry HI. of France in 1579. The 
orders of the Annunciation and of the Garter were established by 
Amadeus of Savoy and Edward HI. of England, respectively. The 
costumes of the orders were indeed ' wondrous brave.' 

113,28. *Tis lawfull. Webster's information corresponds 
pretty closely to the facts in the case. Cf. Von Huebner's Life and 
Times of Sixtus V. (English tr. 1871), pt. n. ii.-iii. 

ii3» 37- scrutinie . . . admiration. Two of the meth- 
ods of electing a Pope are here referred to. Scrutiny is balloting, a 
two thirds vote of the conclave being necessary to elect. Adoration 
(for which *■ admiration ' is either a misprint or an error on Web- 
ster's part) is an act of reverence on the part of cardinals, who ap- 
proach one of their number, kneel to him and acclaim him Pope : 
this constitutes election if participated in by two thirds. The term 
* adoration ' is no longer in use. The two other methods are access 
and compromise. Access is changing votes after a scrutiny has 
failed to elect. Compromise is submitting to a committee of one 
or more the naming of a Pope, in case the other methods fail to 
result in agreement. 

114, 43. Denuntio . . . QuartuS. / ginje you tidings 
of great joy. The most rc'verend Cardinal Lorenzo di Monticelso 
has been elected to the apostolic see, and has chosen for himself 
the name of Paul the Fourth. — Long li-ve the Holy Father, Paul 
the Fourth. 

114, 44. Lorenso . . . Monticelso. The real name 

was Felice Peretti di Montalto. 



i^tefif 199 

114, 46. Paulum Quartum. This, of course, should be 
Sixtum Quintum, the tide assumed by Montalto. Paul IV. was 
followed by Pius IV,, Pius V., Gregory XIII., and then Sixtus V. 

115, 60. Concedimus . . . peccatorum. We grant 

you our apostolic benediction and remission of your sins. 

115, 62. My lord. Reference not certain; perhaps Fran- 
cisco has conveyed the information in an aside. 

117, 93. Barbarie horse. Gervase Markham, in Countrey 
Contentments (1615), p. 1 6 7, counts the Barbaiy horse the best for 
coursing and running. 

117, 94. carreere. 'This word Cariere is by many igno- 
rant men and some schollers taken for leaping, bounding, & saults 
above ground ; . . . indeed Cariere is but onelie to runne swiftlie. 
. . . 4 score & 10 paces a verie convenient Cariere ' (Markham's 
Cavalarice, 1607). Cf. Glossary. 

117, 96. French rider. Cf D. M. i. i. 159. French 
horsemanship was highly esteemed at this time. 

119, 129. suffrage. Trisyllabic. 

119, 130. reason . . . death. Montalto had been ex- 
pected to avenge the murder of his nephew, Camillo ; and Lodo- 
vico, as an enemy of Flamineo, had counted on protection, 

121, 4, Saw . . . Moore. The resemblance to Othello is 
sufficiently obvious. 

122, 16, strickt . . . Capuchins. The Capuchins were 
a mendicant order of the Franciscans. 

122, 21. Malta . . . knighted. The knights of Malta 
were those referred to as the knights of Rhodes, fV. D. iv. 
iv. 9. 

123,43. Glories . . . light. This couplet is repeated ver- 
batim in D. M. IV. ii. 150. 

125, 71. paire . . . beades. A chaplet of beads. 'Pair,' 
in certain expressions, means a set and not specifically two : e. g. a. 
pair of stairs. 

125, 72. pummell . . . saddle. Reed notes the execu- 
tion of Edward Squire in 1 598 for poisoning the pommel of Queen 
Elizabeth's saddle. 

126, 94. In faith. Perhaps the ejaculation. 

126, 103. own chronicle. Cf D. M. m. i. 87. 



200 0ottsi 



128, 144. pension. 

' The Duke but slowly did my pension pay 
And at the last did take it quite away,' 

Ariosto, Sat. v. (Tofte). 

129, 171. pulling . . . throate. Worrying to death. Mr. 
Craig notes Rowley's A Match at Midnight (1633) i. i. : 

'■Blood. Go let loose the mastiff. 
Sim. Alas sir, he'll tear and pull out your son's throat.' 

Cf. alsoSelden's Table Talk, p. 76 (Arber's ed.). 

130, 187. they . . . fleas. Florio, First Fruites (l^jS), 
notes this proverb, as does Cotgrave (161 1). It is still in use in 
the north of Ireland (W. J. Craig). 

130,203. dra'wers on. The shoemaker draws on shoes, and 
salt things induce thirstiness. Cf. Diccon's comment on ' a slyp 
of bacon' (Gammer Gurton'' s Need/e, i. i. 22): 

' Which 1 intend not far hence, vnles my purpose fayle. 
Shall seme for a shoinghorne to draw on two pots of ale.' 

S. Rowlands, in The Letting of Humours Blood in the Head-Vaine 
(1600), Sat. 6, says of a pickle-herring: 

' Which fish hath vertue, eaten salt and raw, 
To pull drinke to it, euen as heate doth straw.' 

Cf. also Rabelais, Gargantua, i. v. Moryson {Itinerary ^ iii. 3, 
148) praises Westphalian bacon above English. 

131,208. clapt . . . heeles. Put in the stocks j fettered. 

131,208. strike . . . court. At some courts, for instance 
Queen Elizabeth's, it was against etiquette to use physical violence 
within the limits of the palace. 

131, 213. walnut-tree . . . fruite. The saying, as it 
appears in Ray's Proverbs (i6jo), runs : 

' A spaniel, a woman and a walnut tree, 
The more they're beaten, the better still they be.' 

131, 216. pitcht . . . stake. A peculiarly atrocious method 
of impaling a prisoner through the body, and then setting him up 
like a scare-crow. 

132, 222. cholericke . . . rubarbe. So in D. M. n. v. 

1 5 . Rhubarb was introduced into England in the latter half of the 
sixteenth century. Vigo (tr. by Thomas Gale, 1586) says: ' Pilles 



Jlioce0 201 

of Rubarbe open oppilations [stoppages] of the liver, & purge 
evill, mixt, or unmixt humours.' It was one of the Poticary's 
remedies in The Four PP. 

132, 227. two . . . sons. Polynices and Eteocles, who *in 
one day effected at each other's hands their suicidal, wretched, 
common doom.' (^Antigone, 55.) 

132, 230. geesse . . . progresse. The only explanation 
the editor can suggest is one indicated in Northivard Ho, v. i., — 
fighting with threats only : * . . as many of your captains do, that 
fight, as the geese saved the Capitol, only with prattling.' 

132, 232. noble, friend. This reading finds support in 
TF. D. V. vi. 2, 118: 

* As you are noble, 
Performe your vowes.' 

I33> 239- spring . . . Michaelmas. Recurrence of fine 
weather in autumn. 

136, 39. looking glasse . . . lippes. Cf. Lear, v. iii. 
260-265. 

140, 9. Remove . . . barre. Probably one or all of the 
bars enclosing the space within which they fought. 

140, 12. I . . . poyson'd. A very dramatic suggestion 
of Flamineo's, probably followed by the hurried exit of the ambas- 
sadors. 

141, "22. without booke. Without learning or authority. 
Possibly reminiscent of the frequent phrase of killing or fighting 
'by the book,' — in accordance with the correct teaching of Sa- 
violo. Cf D. M. m. iii. 20. 

141,31. comet . . . departure. Cf ^. Z). m. ii. 261. 

142,56. within . . . verge. Probably, within the bound- 
aries of the horizon, or earth ; on this side of the ' jumping-off 
place.' 

142, 59. wolfe . . . breast. Steeven's supposition that 
this refers to the craving appetite of a pregnant woman is surely 
untenable. The reference must be to the disease, the ' ulcerous 
wolf (cf. D. M. II. i. 68), or lupus, sometimes treated by the 
application of raw meat, the theory being that the ulcer would eat 
into the application. This was the treatment followed by the real 
Bracciano, who suffered from the loathsome disease. 



202 Jliote0 

144, 91. convayd COyne. This was forbidden in Naples, 
for example, in the sixteenth century. 

146, 125. haire . . . powder. Cf. D. M. m. ii. 60. 

147, 132. Miracle . . . vermin. Possibly an allusion to 
the legendary release of Hamelin from the plague of rats by the 
pied piper, in 1284. 

I47> 137- Attende . . . Brachiane. Listen, Lord Bra- 

chiano. 

147, 142. Domine . . . laevum. Lord Brae hiam, by thy 
shield thou nuert ivont to be safe in battle ; this shield shah thou notv 
oppose against thine infernal enemy. 

By this spear thou ivert formerly strong in battle f this sacred 
spear shalt thou noiv shake against the enemy of souls. 

Hearken, Lord Brachiano : if noiv thou deemest fitting the things 
done among us, turn thy head to the right. 

Have no fears. Lord Brachiano : think ivhat merits you have ; 
then remember that my soul has been paivned for thine if there be 
any peril. 

If noiv, too, thou deemest fitting the things done among us, turn 
thy head to the left. 

149, 166, broke . . . poison'd. Professor Baker here 
makes note of the similarity to the charges made against Leicester 
after the death of Amy Robsart. This supposition, that Leicester was 
in Webster's mind, receives support from the name of Isabella's poi- 
soner, Julio. Leicester's Italian physician, afterward royal physician, 
was Giialio Borgarucci, who was deemed expert in poisoning. The 
reference in the preceding lines to the * famous poUititian ' is also 
in point. 

150, 184. woman-keeper . . . quaintlyer. Alluding 

to the nurses' ('keepers') supposed custom of smothering or 
strangling patients sick with the plague. Cf. Defoe's Journal of 
the Plague Tear. Besant, London, p. 392, quotes an anonymous 
tract of 1603, The Wonderful Tear : *■ Neither shall you wring out 
of my pen . . . the villainies of that damnd Keeper, who killd all 
she kept.' 

^S'* ^9^' "^ish . . . cittie. Certainly a reference to the 
New River project of Sir Hugh Myddelton to supply London with 
fresh water. The scheme was sanctioned in 1606 and after serious 
interruptions was completed in 161 3. 



^OUSi 203 

151, 201. Machivillian. In this period, Machiavelli was 
synonymous with utter unscrupulousness. 

151, 205. saffron. Frequently used in the old pharmacopoeia 
as a stimulant and restorative. Cf. Rabelais, Gargantua, i. x. : ' And 
as Avicen speaketh in 2 Canon, et lib. de virib. cordis, of the 
saffron, that it doth so rejoice the heart, that if you take of it ex- 
cessively, it will, by a superfluous resolution and dilation, deprive it 
altogether of life. ' 

152, 207. To . . . ice. ' Court honesty ' is another name 
for deceitfulness ; to jump on ice is to do something dangerous. 
Thus court honesty is taught (or exposed) by a device that is fatal 
to the imitator. 

154, 240. Irish mantle. Mr. Craig notes the long descrip- 
tion of these large shaggy mantles in Spenser's State of Ireland 
(cf. Globe edition, 631 a). 

IS4» 250- reveale . . . secret. Both here, and in D.M. 
(v. ii. ), Webster provides for the resolution of the plot by the be- 
trayal of trust on the part of a lewd woman under the influence of 
passion. 

155, 255. The . . . broke. The bed (knot or mass) of 
snakes is broken by the separation of the reptiles (the conspirators). 

155, 269. wash . . . white. Cf. Jeremiah^ xiii. 23. 

156, 275. partridge . . . lawrell. Reed notes that Pliny 
(viii. 27), places the partridge among the birds that purge with 
laurel. Holland's translation speaks of partridges using ' parietarie 
of the wall ' [pellitory] . 

157, 26. 'Twere . . . sinne. Repeated in nearly the same 
words in D. M. v. v. 62-63. 

^S^i 3°- Anacharsis. A Thracian prince of the sixth 
century b. c, noted for his wisdom. He was put to death by his 
brother. 

158, 36. In . . . sexto. In i6mo, /. e. in little. 

160, 71. They . . . travers. The use of the traverse 
is clearly illustrated at this point. Under other stage conditions, a 
new scene would occur here, the scene shifting to Cornelia's room. 
But Elizabethan simplicity conveniently brings the new scene into 
the old one, without even an explanation of the incongruity that 
lies in Flamineo's discovery of the ' superstitious howling ' behind 



204 il^otesf 

a curtain, immediately after Francisco has referred to tlie mourners 
as being in a ' room ' which was obviously out of Flamineo's 
hearing. 

1 60. A song. This song is lost. 

160, 75. bayes . . . lightning. * As the Laurel tree is 
not subject to lightning.' — Meres, Pailadis Tamia (1598). Cf. 
also Pliny, 11. 55. 

160, 78. this . . . yere. Perhaps the winding-sheet which 
Cornelia was keeping for herself: an old custom. 

160, 84. There's rosemarie. Cf. Hamlet, iv. v. 175, 

161, 89. heere's . . . out. Cf. Macbeth, V. i. 

161, 99. He . . . lute. The general resemblance to the 
words with which Desdemona introduces the willow song is obvi- 
ous {Othello, IV. iii. 26). 

164, 149. beyond melancholic. Not a mere illusion 
caused by excess of the humor, melancholy, in his nature. 

165, Act V. Scene v. This brief scene is dramatically 
necessary, in order to account for the entrance of Giovanni and 
the English ambassador after the triple murder in the following 
scene. 

167, 22. at . . . lift. As a last resort. 

170,64. mandrakes . . . shreeking. Referring to the 
notion that when mandrakes were pulled from the ground they 
made a sound like hissing or shrieking. 

170* 65. grammaticall laments. Analogous to 'rhetor- 
ical questions ' ; verbal quibbling. 

171, 94. your ovrne. Flamineo is speaking here to both. 

172, 103. Lucian . . . purgatory. In Lucian's (second 
century a. d.) dialogue Menippos {Necyomanteid) occurs this pass- 
age : ' I thinke it would move you to laugh much, if you saw those 
that were Kings and Princes amongst us, beg their bread there, sell 
salt fish, and teach the A. B. C. for sustenance, and how they are 
scorned and boxed about the eares as the basest slaves in the world. 
It was my fortune to have a sight of Philip King of Macedon, and 
I thought I should have burst my heart with laughing : hee was 
shewed mee sitting in a little corner, cobling old shoes to get some- 
what towards his living : many other were to be scene there also, 
begging by the high waies side, such as Xerxes, Darius, and Poly- 



il^ote^ 205 

crates'* (tr. Francis Hickes, Oxford, 1634, p. 40). Rabelais 

much more explicitly, in the thirtieth chapter of Pantagruel, makes 

use of the same idea, Webster chooses his own examples, however. 

174, 142. purboil'd . . . holly-bread. Cotgrave's 

Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues (l6ll) explains the 
allusion, hitherto unnoted : ' Pain benist d ' Escosse. — A sodden 
sheepes liver.' Purboil'd (parboiled) has its original and correct 
meaning. Cf. Glossary. 

174, 144. drive . . . body. Referring to the custom of 
driving a stake through the body of a suicide. 

174,148. doubled . . . reaches. Escaped all your'schemes, 
either as a hare doubling on its course, or as a person meeting 
scheme with scheme. 

175* ^59- Artillery yard. Near Bishopsgate Street With- 
out. There was a revival of interest in the Honourable Artillery 
Company in 16 10. 

I75> 163. Hypermnestra. The only one of the fifty daugh- 
ters of Danaus who did not kill her husband on the wedding-night. 

175, 172. Isabella. There is little value in assigning this 
speech to any one but Lodovico, from whose lips it may come as 
a cry of vengeance. 

176, 178. Fate's . . . us. Cf. note onv. i. 213, p. 200. 

177, 203. Nothing . . . nothing. Cf. lago's ' Demand 
me nothing : what you know, you know.' Othello^ v. ii. 303. 

178, 223. Mee thinkes . . . ayre. Bosola strikes the 
same note in D. M. iv. ii. 216-219 • 

' Doth not death fright you f . . . Yet, me thinkes. 
The manner of your death should much afflict you.' 

The Duchess's reply is as fearless as Vittoria's. 

179, 225. Conceit . . . me. Owing to the number of 
meanings, the play upon words is not unmistakable. The literal 
meaning is that Vittoria cannot be terrified by the name of death : 
figuratively, as she is a woman, conception (or vanity) cannot kill 
her. 

181,261. O happy . . . report. This dying speech is so 
inferior to Vittoria's preceding speech, that not improbably this one 
belongs to Zanche, with whose character it is in accord. 



206 0OttfSi 

i8i, 266. lyons . . . Candlemas. From the time of 

Henry I. to William IV. the Tower contained wild animals, the 
lions being a chief attraction. Candlemas is 2 February, and the 
* tradition ' is obviously like that of ' ground-hog day.' 

Epilogue. 

183. Haec . . . placui. TAese things ivill be our reivard^ 
if I have pleased you. Martial, 11. 91. 

184, 8. Maister Perkins. Richard Perkins, who prob- 
ably played Brachiano, was one of the excellent actors of his time. 
Dyce notes that he acted for many years * at the Cock-pit or 
Phoenix, where this play was produced.' From Malone, it appears 
that the Red Bull also had his services. Other parts of his were 
Captain Goodlack in The Fair Maid of the West^ and Barabas, in 
The Jeiv of Malta (revival of 1633). 



Ci^e ^utct)tm of ittalf? 



THE TEXT 

The following text is that of the British Museum copy of the 
first quarto, 1623 (A), collated with the quartos of 1640 (B), 
1678 (C), 1708, and with all the succeeding editions. The Harvard 
copy of A, which was collated while this edition was passing through 
the press, is referred to as A2, for it corrects the most obvious 
errors of A. Its variants show that it is a specimen of "some 
copies of A" (Dyce), often cited in the variants. A, A2, B, and 
C, are referred to collectively as Qq. Departures from the original 
are treated exactly as in the text of The White Di-vel : that is, all 
variations from A are bracketed, excepting corrections of such 
obvious and meaningless misprints as fteqeuently and seeene j the 
source of all other corrections is indicated thus — a bracketed cor- 
rection without footnote means that B supplies the adopted reading; 
C or 1 708 supplies the reading when the old reading is specified 
as being in AB or ^q respectively, and all other emendations are 
credited to the editor proposing them. Unbracketed stage-directions ' 
or those within ( ) are from A 5 others are within [ ] , and are 
credited when not entirely obvious. Line rearrangements are always 
noted, and are credited when not obvious ; frequently they follow 
Dyce. Punctuation and capitalization are modernized. 6 is re- 
placed by O, and n and m are used instead of their occasional 
symbol ^. 



THE 

TRAGEDY 

OF iHE t>vt:chesse 

O/Malfjr. 

4s it wasTrefented prmatlj.atthe'^lackr 
Friers \ and publiquely at the Globe ^ By the 
Kings Maieftics Scruants. 

The pcrfed and exaft Coppy^ with diucr/e 

things Printed ^that the length of the Play wculd 
not bearc in the Prcfemmcnt. 

Y^ntttnhyfohn IVebJler. 

Flora SisfUid' — 

Candtdut Iwfertijitton hu vtere mecum. 



LONDON: 

Printed by Nicholas OKKS,forIoHN 
Waters on, and are to be fold at the 
figne of the Crowne , in 'Paulef 
Church-yard , 1625. 



SOURCES 

Webster found the story of the Duchess of Amalfi in Painter's 
The Palace of Pleasure y the twenty-third '* Nouell " of the second 
" Tome " (1567). Painter translated the story from the Histoires 
Tragi ques (1565) of Belle-Forest, who had freely paraphrased it 
from the twenty-sixth novella of Bandello (1554). Other accounts 
accessible to Webster, but too brief to have served as material for 
the play, are in Beard's The Theatre of Gods Judgements (^l^<)j)f 
inGoulart's Histoires Admirables (1600), and in Grimeston's trans- 
lation of Goulart ( 1 607 ) . Webster made no use of Lope de Vega's 
pby El Mayordomo de la Duquesa de Amalfi (written before 1609, 
published 161 8), a sequel to which. La Vengawza de la Duquesa 
de Amalfiy by Diego Muxet de Solis (1624), has nothing in com- 
mon with Webster's tragedy. For a discussion of all these points, see 
Introduction. 



TO THE RIGHT 

Honorable, George 
Harding, Baron Barkeley, of Barkeley 

Castle, and Knight of the Order of the Bathe, 
To the Illustrious Prince Charles. 

My Noble Lord, 

That I may present my excuse why (being a stranger 1 
to your Lordshippe) I offer this poem to your patronage, 
I plead this warrant : men (who never saw the sea yet 
desire to behold that regiment of waters) choose some 
eminent river to guide them thither, and make that, as it 
were, their conduct or postilion: by the like ingenious 
meanes has your fame arrived at my knowledge, receiving 
it from some of worth, who both in contemplation and 
practise owe to your Honor their clearest service. I do J 
not altogether looke up at your title: the ancien'st no- 
bility being but a rellique of time past, and the truest 
honor indeede beeing for a man to conferre honor on him- 
selfe, which your learning strives to propagate, and shall 
make you aime at the dignity of a great example. I am i 
confident this worke is not unworthy your Honors pe- 
rusal, for by such poems as this poets have kist the hands 
of great princes, and drawne their gentle eyes to looke 
Dedication. Not in BC. 



2r>ei»icatton 213 

downe upon their sheetes of paper, when the poets them- 
selves were bound up in their winding-sheetes. The like 20 
curtesie from your Lordship shall make you live in your 
grave, and laurell spring out of it, when the ignorant 
scorners of the Muses (that like wormes in libraries seeme 
to live onely to destroy learning) shall wither, neglected 
and forgotten. This worke and my selfe I humbly pre- 25 
sent to your approved censure ; it being the utmost of my 
wishes to have your Honorable selfe my weighty and 
perspicuous comment : which grace so done me shall 
ever be acknowledged 

By your Lordships 

in all duty and 
observance, 

John Webster. 



214 (Sratulatori^ Wtx&t 



In the just Worth of that Well Deserver, 

Mr John Webster, and upon this 

Maister-peece of Tragcedy 

In this thou imitaf st one rich and ijoise, 

That sees his good deedes done before he dies ,• 

As he by njoorkes, thou by this nvorke of fame 

Ha"" St Tvell pro<vided for thy Having name. 

To trust to others honorings is ivorth'' s crime: 

Thy monument is rais"" d in thy life time j 

And "'tis most just i for e'very ^worthy man 

Is his oivne marble ,• and his merit can 

Cut him to any figure, and expresse 

More art then Deaths cathedrall pallaces. 

Where royall ashes keepe their court. Thy note 

Be enjer plainnes-y "'tis the richest coate : 

Thy epitaph onely the title bee : 

Write Dutchesse, that ivill fetch a tear e for thee\ 

For ivho ere sanv this Dutchesse live and dye 

That could get off under a bleeding eye ? 

In Trag^diam. 

Ut lux ex tenebris ictu percussa Tonantis j 
Ilia, {ruina malis) claris fit 'vita poetis. 

Thomas Middletonus 

Poeta & Chron: 
Londinensis. 



aratulator^ Jaer0e 215 



To HIS FRIEND Mr. JoHN WeBSTER 
UPON HIS DUTCHESSE 

OF Malfy 

/ ne<ver sanv thy Dutchesse till the day 
That she ivas lively body'' d in thy play j 
Ho^ ere she ans^wer' d her lonv-rated lo'vey 
Her brothers anger did so fatall prooHje ,• 
Yet my opinion is, she might speake more. 
But {ne'ver in her life) so Rvell before. 

WiL: Rowley. 



To THE Reader of the Authour 
AND HIS Dutchesse of Malfy 

Croivne him a poet, ivhom nor Rome nor Greece 

Transcend in all their s, for a master-peece : 

In 'which, nvhile 'voords and matter change, and men 

Act one another, hee, from <vohose clear e pen lo 

They all tooke life, to memory hath lent 

A lasting fame to raise his monument. 

John Ford. 

These three poetical tributes are not in BC 



THE ACTORS NAMES. 

BosoLA, [Daniel de, Gentleman of the Horse to the Duchess,] 

y. Loivin. 
Ferdinand, [Duke of Calabria,] i R. Burhidge. ly. Taylor. 
Cardinall, [his brother,] l H. Cundaile. z R. Robinson. 
Antonio [Bologna, steward to the Duchess's Household,] 

I ff^. Ostler. 2 R. Benfeild. 
Delio, [his friend,] y. Underivood. 
FoROBOSco, [an attendant,] N. Toivley. 
Malateste, [Count.] 
[Castruchio, an old Lord.] 
The Mar^uesse of Pescara, y. Rice. 
Silvio, [a Lord,] T. Pollard. 
[Roderigo|j^^^j^ 
[Grisolan J -^ 

The severall mad-men, N. ToivUyy y. Underivood^ etc. 
The Dutchesse, R. Sharpe. 

The Cardinals Mis. [Julia, wife of Castruchio,] y. Tomson. 
The Doctor, ] 

Cariola, [the Duchess's waiting- woman,] V R. Pallant. 
Court Officers. J 

[Old Lady.] 
Three young Children. 
Two Pilgrimes. 
Ladies, Executioners, and Attendants. 

[THE SCENE, Amalfi, Rome, Loretto, Milan 
TIME, Early Sixteenth Century] 



The list of characters is given in all editions, together with the casts. 
A is followed here. B also omits Castruchio, Roderigo, Grisolan, and Old 
Lady. As noted in C and 1708, Ferdinand was also acted by Harris and 
Verbruggen ; Antonio by Smith and Booth ; the Cardinal by Young and 
Keen ; Bosola by Betterton and Mills ; the Duchess by Mrs. Bctterton 
and Mrs. Porter. 



Ci^e l^tttci)mt of jEalft 



Actus Primus. Scena Prima. 

\AmalJi. The Presence-Chamber in the Duchesses 
Palace.'] 

\_Enter Antonio and Delio.~\ 

Delio. You are wel-come to your country, 
deere Antonio : 
You have bin long in France, and you returne 
A very formall French-man in your habit. 
How doe you like the French court ? 

Antonio, I admire it. 

In seeking to reduce both state and people 5 

To a fix'd order, there juditious king 
Begins at home : quits first his royall pallace 
Of flattring sicophants, of dissolute 
And infamous persons, which he sweetely termes 
His masters master-peece, the worke of heaven, lo 
Considring duely, that a princes court 
Is like a common fountaine, whence should flow 
Pure silver-droppes in generall : but ift chance 
Some cursM example poyson't neere the head. 

Enter Antonio. Qq, Antonio, and Delio, Bosola, Cardinall. 



2 1 8 W^t SDutc^esfsfe of ^alf^ [ act i. 

" Death and diseases through the whole land 

spread. 
And what is't makes this blessed government, 
But a most provident councell, who dare freely 
Informe him the corruption of the times ? 
Though some oth' court hold it presumption 
To instruct princes what they ought to doe, 
It is a noble duety to informe them 
What they ought to fore-see. Here comes 

Bosola, 
The onely court-gall : yet I observe his rayling 
Is not for simple love of piety : 
Indeede he rayles at those things which he wants, 
Would be as leacherous, covetous, or proud. 
Bloody, or envious, as any man. 
If he had meanes to be so. Here 's the cardinall. 
^EnUr Cardinal and Bosola.~\ 

Bosola, I doe haunt you still. 

Cardinal. So. 

Bos. I have done you better service then to 
be slighted thus. Miserable age, where onely 
the reward of doing well is the doing of it. 

Card. You inforce your merrit to[o] much. 

Bos. I fell into the gallies in your service, 
where, for two yeares together, I wore two 

31 I have done. This speech and all other prose speeches in 
the play are printed in Qq in lines that begin with capitals, and that 
are, roughly speaking, of verse length. 



Scene I] ^^t WUttl^t&^t Of ^Hlf^ 2 19 

towells in stead of a shirt, with a knot on the 
shoulder, after the fashion of a Romaine mantle. 
Slighted thus ? I will thrive some way. Black- 
birds fatten best in hard weather : why not I, 40 
in these dogge dayes ? 

Carci. Would you could become honest ! 

Bos. With all your divinity, do but direct 
me the way to it. I have knowne many travel! 
farre for it, and yet returne as arrant knaves 45 
as they went forth ; because they carried them- 
selves alwayes a long with them. \_Exit Cardi- 
nal.'] Are you gon ? Some fellowes, they say, 
are possessed with the divell, but this great fel- 
low were able to possesse the greatest divell, 50 
and make him worse. 

Ant. He hath denied thee some suit ? 

Bos. He and his brother are like plum-trees 
that grow crooked over standing-pooles : they 
are rich, and ore-laden with fruite, but none but 55 
crowes, pyes, and catter-pillers feede on them. 
Could I be one of their flattring panders, I 
would hang on their eares like a horse-leach, 
till I were full, an[d] then droppe off. I pray 
leave me. Who wold relie upon these miser- 60 
able dependances, in expectation to be advanc'd 
to morrow ? what creature ever fed worse then 
hoping Tantalus ? nor ever died any man more 

63 died. A, did. 



220 tE^lie HE>utct)es?s?e of ^palf^ [act l 

fearefully then he that hop'd for a [pardon]. 
There are rewards for hawkes, and dogges, when 65 
they have done us service ; but for a souldier, that 
hazards his Umbes in a battaile, nothing but a 
kind of geometry is his last supportation. 

Delio. Geometry ? | 

Bos. I, to hang in a faire paire of slings, take yo'j 
his latter-swinge in the world, upon an honor- 
able pare of crowtches, from hospitall to hospitall. 
Fare ye well, sir. And yet do not you scorne 
us, for places in the court are but like beds in 
the hospitall, where this mans head lies at that 75 ; 
mans foote, and so lower, and lower. [^^/V.] 

Delio, I knew this fellow seaven yeares in the 
gallies 
For a notorious murther ; and 'twas thought 
The cardinall suborn'd it : he was releas'd 
By the French generall, Gaston de Foux, 80 3 

When he recover'd Naples. 

Jnt. 'Tis great pitty 

He should be thus neglected : I have heard 
He's very valiant. This foule mellancholly 
Will poyson all his goodnesse, for, I'le tell you, 
If too immoderate sleepe be truly sayd 85 

To be an inward rust unto the soule, 

64 pardon. A, pleadon. 65 doggesy ivhen. A, dogges, and 
when. Either a word has dropped out, or, more probably, and is a 
printer's error, corrected in B by omission. 

74 like. A, likes. 80 Foux. B, Foyx ; C, Fox ; 1708 Foix. 



Scene I. ] ^\)t 2DUtCl|e00e Of ^alf^ 2 2 1 

It then doth follow want of action 

Breeds all blacke male-contents, and their close 

rearing 
(Like mothes in cloath) doe hurt for want of 

wearing. 
[^EnUr Siivioy CastruchiOy Julia y RoderigOy and 
Grtsolan.~\ 
Delia. The presence 'gins to fill : you pro- 
mised me 90 
To make me the partaker of the natures 
Of some of your great courtiers. 

Jnt. The lord cardinalPs 

And other strangers', that are now in court. 
I shall. Here comes the great Calabrian duke. 
[^Enter Ferdinand and Courtiers.~\ 
Ferdinand. Who tooke the ring oftnest ? 95 

Silvio. Antonio Bologna, my lord. 
Ferd. Our sister duchesse great master of 
her houshold ? Give him the Jewell. When 
shall we leave this sportive-action, and fall to 
action indeed ? 100 

89 Like . . . ivearing. After this line in Qq stands : Scena 
II. Antonio^ Delia, Ferdinand, Cardinal!, Dutchesse, Castruchio, Sil- 
vio, Rodocico [i?V], Grisolan, Boso/a, yulia, Cariola. In 1708 the 
direction is : Exeunt, then, Scena II. Enter Antonio, Delio, Fer- 
dinand, Castrucchio, Syl'vio. The present arrangement of entrances 
diflfers from that of preceding editions. It is difficult to fix the en- 
trance of Julia, as she does not speak in the scene. 

92 your. C 1708, our. cardinaW s. (Jq, cardinalls. 

93 strangers' . Dyce adds the apostrophe. 
96 Antonio. AB, Antonia. 



222 ta^^t 2r>utcl)r0sfe of ^alf^ [act i. 

Castruchio. Me thinkes, my lord, you should 
not desire to go to war in person. 

Ferd. Now for some gravity : why, my lord ? 

Cast. It is fitting a souldier arise to be a prince, 
but not necessary a prince descend to be a cap-ic 
taine. 

Ferd. Noe ? 

Cast. No, my lord, he were far better do it 
by a deputy. 

Ferd. Why should he not aswell sleepe, orn 
eate, by a deputy ? this might take idle, offen- 
sive, and base office from him, whereas the 
other deprives him of honour. 

Cast. Beleeve my experience : that realme 
is never long in quiet, where the ruler is au 
souldier. 

Ferd. Thou toldst me thy wife could not 
endure fighting. 

Cast. True, my lord. 

Ferd. And of a jest she broke of a captaine i 
she met, full of wounds : I have forgot it. 

Cast. She told him, my lord, he was a pittifuU 
fellow, to lie, like the children of Ismael all in 
tents. 

Ferd. Why, there's a wit were able to 125 
undoe all the chyrurgeons o' the city ; for al- 
though gallants should quarrell, and had drawne 

108 do. B, to doe. 113 det'ri'ves. B, reprives. 



Scene I] ^E^t SDUtC^r^Sff Of ^dilf^ 223 

their weapons, and were ready to goe to it, yet 
her perswasions would make them put up. 

Cast. That she would, my lord. How doe 130 
you like my Spanish gennit ? 

Roderigo. He is all fire. 

Ferd. I am of Pliney's opinion, I thinke he 
was begot by the wind : he runs as if he were 
ballass'd with quick-silver. 135 

Sil, True, my lord, he reeles from the tilt 
often. 

Rod. Grisolan. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Ferd. Why do you laugh ? me thinks you 
that are courtiers should be my touch-wood, 140 
take fire when I give fire ; that is, laugh when 
I laugh, were the subject never so wity. 

Cast. True, my lord : I my selfe have heard 
a very good jest, and have scorn'd to seeme to 
have so silly a wit as to understand it. 145 

Ferd. But I can laugh at your foole, my lord. 

Cast. He cannot speake, you know, but he 
makes faces : my lady cannot abide him. 

Ferd. Noe? 

Cast. Nor endure to be in merry company: 150 
for she sales too much laughing, and too much 
company, fils her too full of the wrinckle. 

131 Hoiv . . . gennit F Query : should not this part of the 
speech be assigned to Ferdinand ? 

141 laugh ivhen. Dyce, but when 5 1708, Not laugh but. No 
emendation is necessary, as the actor's intonation carries the sense. 



224 Wf^t 2E>tttctieg0e of ^alffe [act i. 

Ferd. I would then have a mathematical! 
instrument made for her face, that she might 
not laugh out of compasse. I shall shortly visit i 
you at Millaine, Lord Silvio. 

SiL Your grace shall arrive most wel-come. 

Ferd. You are a good horse-man, Antonio : 
you have excellent riders in France ; what doe 
you thinke of good horse-man-ship ? it 

j^nt. Noblely, my lord, as out of the Grecian 
horse issued many famous princes, so out of j 
brave horse-man-ship arise the first sparkes of 
growing resolution, that raise the minde to noble 
action. i,« 

Ferd. You have be-spoake it worthely. ' 

Sil. Your brother, the lord cardinall, and sis- 
ter dutchesse. 

^Enter Cardinaly Duchess, and Cariola.~\ 

Card. Are the gallies come about ? 

Gris, They are, my lord. 

Ferd. Here's the Lord Silvio is come to take 
his leave. i' 

Delio. Now, sir, your promise : what's that 

cardinall ? ; 

I meane his temper? they say he's a brave | 

fellow, I 

Will play his five thousand crownes at tennis, J 

daunce, \ 

Enter . . . Cariola. 1 708, Cardinal, Duchess, Grisola, [sicj.^: 
Cariola, and Bosola. Dyce, Cardinal, Duchess, Cariola, and Julia. ;,|: 



Scene I] XIL'^t mXltt^tSl&t Ot ^^it^ 225 

Court ladies, and one that hath fought single 
combats. 
Jnt, Some such flashes superficially hang on 175 
him, for forme ; but observe his inward charac- 
ter: he is a mellancholly church-man. The 
spring in his face is nothing but the ingendring 
of toades : where he is jealious of any man, he 
laies worse plots for them then ever was im-i8o 
pos'd on Hercules : for he strewes in his way flat- 
ter [er]s, panders, intelligencers, athiests, and a 
thousand such politicall monsters. He should 
have beene Pope : but in stead of comming to 
It by the primative decensie of the church, he 185 
did bestow bribes, so largely, and so impudently, 
jas if he would have carried it away without hea- 
ivens knowledge. Some good he hath done. 
De/Io. You have given too much of him : 

what's his brother? 
Jnt. The duke there ? a most perverse and 
turbulent nature : i^o 

iWhat appeares in him mirth is meerely outside; 
[f he laugh hartely, it is to laugh 
Ml honesty out of fashion. 

D^/io. Twins ? 

_, ^^^- In qualitie. 

ie speakes with others tongues, and heares 
mens suites 

1^1 flatterers. C corrects. 193 Tivins? BC, Twins. 



226 ^\)t 2r>tttclie00e of £palf^ [act i. 

With others eares : will seeme to sleepe o'th 

bench i 

Onely to intrap offenders in their answeres ; 
Doombes men to death by information, 
Rewards by heare-say. 

Delio. Then the law to him ^ 

Is like a fowle blacke cob-web to a spider, 1 
He makes it his dwelling and a prison 
To entangle those shall feede him. 

Jnt. Most true : 

He nev'r paies debts, unlesse they be [shrew'd] 

turnes, 
And those he will confesse that he doth owe. 
Last, for his brother, there, the cardinall. 
They that doe flatter him most, say oracles 
Hang at his lippes : and verely I beleeve them : 
For the divell speakes in them. 
But for their sister, the right noble duchesse. 
You never fix'd you[r] eye on three faire med-4 

dalls. 
Cast in one figure, of so different temper : 
For her discourse, it is so full of rapture. 
You onely will begin then to be sorry 
When she doth end her speech : and wish, ii 

wonder. 
She held it lesse vaine-glory to talke much 
Then your pennance to heare her : whilst she 

speakes, 

202 sArew^d. A, shewed. 



s«- 1] g^jjp ffi)tttcljw«e of spalfp 227 

She throwes upon a man so sweet a looke, 

That jt were able raise one to a galliard 

That lay m a dead palsey, and to doate 

On that sweete countenance : but in that looke 

There speaketh so divine a continence .. 

As cuts ofFall lascivious, and vain^hope. 
Her dayes are practised in such noble vertue, 
That sure^ W nights (nay more, her v'ery 

Are n,ore in heaven then other ladies shrifts. 

Let all sweet ladies breake their flattring glasses .« 

And dresse themselves in her ^ ^ ' ^ 



Dello. 



Vou pl^^t^he wire-drawer with £ c^oC "nda- 

^"'■much?!!*'P'""""P^ °"^^y 'hus 

•le ^ZJu''^^^' •^°"'' Srowes to this somme : 

cor^e ""' '''''' "S'^'' "'^ ''""^ '° 

ome halfe an houre hence 
^^'- ' I shall. 

r>, . e- T, l.^'"'''''* Antonio and Delio.-\ 

. />r^. Sister, I have a suit to you. ^ 

JJuchess. .^ 

1 o me, sir ? 

217 ^^«f. C, to raise. a^fi >/„, ■ a . 

226 ^«rowo. A, Antonia. 



228 W\)t 2E>utcl)esf0e of ^alf^ [act i. 

Ferd. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, 
One that was in the gallies. 

Duch. Yes, I know him. : 

Ferd. A worthy fellow h'is : pray let me en- 
treat for 
The provisorship of your horse. 

£>uch. Your knowledge of him i 

Commends him, and prefers him. 

Ferd. Call him heither. \_Exit Attendant.'] 
Wee [are] now upon parting. Good Lord Silvio 
Do us commend to all our noble friends % 

At the leaguer. \ 

Sil. Sir, I shall. 

Duch. You are for Millaine ? 

Sil. I am. 

Duch. Bring the carroches : we'll bring you 
down 
To the haven. 

\_Exeunt all but Cardinal and Ferdinand."] 

239 Wee . . . Sil-vio. Two readings are possible here. A haa 
free now upon parting : Good Lord SiMo, which obviously needs 
amendment. Dyce, following 1708, inserts ^r^ and begins a new 
sentence with Good. The other possible improvement is to change 
the colon after parting to a comma, thus making Wee the subject 
of do commend. Silvio's answer is then not strictly logical. 

241 leaguer. A, Leagues. 

241 Tou . . .Millaine. This speech, assigned in all editions tc 
Ferdinand, certainly belongs to the Duchess. Mr. Daniel also sug- 
gests the change. 

242-43 Bring the . . . haven. One line in Qq. 



Scene I.] XE^\)t 2E>utc^)e00e of ^alf^ 229 

Card, Be sure you entertaine that Bosola 

For your intelligence : I would not be seene in't; 
And therefore many times I have slighted him, 245 
When he did court our furtherance : as this 
morning. 
Ferd. Antonio, the great master of her hous- 
hold, 
Had beene farre fitter. 

Card. You are deceiv'd in him. 

His nature is too honest for such businesse. 
He comes: Til leave you. [£;f//.] 

\_Enter Bosola.~\ 
Bosola. I was lur'd to you. 250 

Ferd. My brother here, the cardinall, could 
never 
Abide you. 

Bos. Never since he was in my debt. 

Ferd. May be some oblique character in your 
face 
Made him suspect you ? 

Bos. Doth he study phisiognomie ? 

There's no more credit to be given to th' face 255 
Then to a sicke mans uryn, which some call 
The physitians whore, because she cozens him. 
He did suspect me wrongfully. 

Ferd. For that 

You must give great men leave to take their 
times. 



230 ®|)e mutt\)tfsst of ^alf^ [act i. 

Distrust doth cause us seldome be deceiv'd ; 
You see, the oft shaking of the cedar-tree 
Fastens it more at roote. 

Bos. Yet take heed : 

For to suspect a friend unworthely, 
Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 
And prompts him to deceive you. 

Ferd. There's gold. 

Bos. So : : 

What followes ? (Never raind such showres as 

these 
Without thunderbolts i'th taile of them.) Whose 
throat must I cut ? 
Ferd. Yourinclination to shed blood rides post 
Before my occasion to use you. I give you that 
To live i'th court here, and observe the duch- 
esse ; ; 

To note all the particulars of her haviour : 
What suitors doe sollicite her for marriage 
And whom she best affects : she's a yong wid- 

owe, 
I would not have her marry againe. 

Bos. No, sir ? 

Ferd. Doe not you aske the reason : but be 
satisfied. 27 

I say I would not. 

Bos. It seemes you would create me 

One of your familiars. 

271 haviour. BC, behaviour. 



Scene I.] tETfje SDutclje^fi^e of ^alf^ 231 

Ferd. Familiar ? what's that ? 

Bos. Why, a very quaint invisible divell in 
flesh: 
An intelligencer. 

Ferd. Such a kind of thriving thing 

I would wish thee : and ere long thou maist ar- 
rive 280 
At a higher place by't. 

Bos. Take your divels 

Which hell calls angels : these curs'd gifts would 

make 
You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor; 
And should I take these, they'll'd take me [to] 
hell. 
Ferd. Sir, I'll take nothing from you that I 
have given : 285 

There is a place that I procur'd for you 
This morning, the provisor-ship o' th' horse, — 
Have you heard ont ? 
Bos. Noe. 

Ferd. 'Tis yours : is't not worth thankes ? 

Bos. I would have you curse your selfe now, 
that your bounty 
^( Which makes men truly noble) ere should make 290 
[Me a villaine. Oh, that to avoid ingratitude 
[For the good deed you have done me, I must 
doe 

284 to. Supplied in 1708. 



232 W^t mntt^t^&t of ^alf^ [Act I. 

All the ill man can invent ! Thus the divell 
Candies all sinnes ore : and what heaven termes 

vild. 
That names he complementall. 

^^^^' Be your selfe : 

Keepe your old garbe of melencholly : 'twill 

expresse 
You envy those that stand above your reach, 
Yet strive not to come neere 'em. This will I 

gaine 
Accesse to private lodgings, where your selfe 
May, like a pollitique dormouse, — 

^^^' As I have scene some 

Feed in a lords dish, halfe a sleepe, not seeming 
To listen to any talke : and yet these rogues 
Have cut his throat in a dreame. Whats my 

place ? 
The provisor-ship o'th horse ? say then my cor- 
ruption 
Grew out of horse-doong : I am your creature. 
Ferd, Away ! [Exit Ferdinand,'] : 

Bos. Let good men, for good deeds, covet 
good fame. 
Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame ; ' 
Sometimes the divell doth preach. Exit Bosola. 

294 ore. A, are. 304 pro-visor-ship. A, provisors-ship. 
Exit Ferdinand. In all previous editions Ferdinand remains upon 
the stage and the scene is continuous. 

307 shame. A has no punctuation after shame. 



Scene II. ] XK^\)t 2Dutcties^0e of ^alf^ 233 

[Scene ii.] 
\Amalfi. Gallery in the Duchess* s Palace. "^ 
\Enter Cardinal^ Ferdinand^ Duchess^ and Cariola.'^ 

Cardinal. We are to part from you : and your 
owne discretion 
Must now be your director. 

Ferdinand. You are a widowe : 

You know already what man is : and therefore 
Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence, — 

Card. No, nor anything without the addition, 
Honor, 
Sway your high blood. 

Ferd. Marry ? they are most luxurious, 

Will wed twice. 

Card. O fie ! 

Ferd. Their livers are more spotted 

Then Labans sheepe. 

Duchess. Diamonds are of most value. 

They say, that have past through most jewellers 
hands. 

Ferd. Whores, by that rule, are precious. 

Duch. Will you heare me ? 

I'll never marry. 

Scene ii. A new scene is called for by Cariola's direction to 
) Antonio, i, i, 231. 

6 luxurious. Thayer unnecessarily conjectures : uxorious. 



234 tETlje 2Dtttclifsffife of ^alf^ [act i. 

Card. So mosts widowes say : 

But commonly that motion lasts no longer 
Then the turning of an houreglasse; the fune- 
ral sermon, 
And it, end both together. 

Ferd. Now heare me : 

You live in a ranke pasture here, i'th court. 
There is a kind of honney-dew that's deadly : 
'Twill poyson your fame ; looke to't : be not 

cunning : 
For they whose faces doe belye their hearts, 
Are witches, ere they arrive at twenty yeeres, 
I : and give the divell sucke. 

Duch. This is terrible good councell. 
Ferd. Hypocrisie is woven of a fine small 
thred. 
Subtler then Vulcans engine : yet (beleev't) 
Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st 

thoughts. 
Will come to light. 

Card. You may flatter your selfe. 

And take your owne choice : privately be married 
Under the eves of night. 

Ferd. Think't the best voyage 

That ere you made ; like the irregular crab, 

11-14 aSo . . . together. BC assign thb speech to Ferdinand, 
as also the succeeding speech. 17 to't. A, too't. 

27 e-ves. A (B.M.), eues j BC, 1708, eves; 1810, eyes; 
Dyce, eves ; Vaughan, Thayer, eaves. 






Scene II] tlTtie Wntt^t£i&t Of ^^alf^ 235 

Which though't goes backward, thinkes that it 

goes right, 
Because it goes its owne way : but observe j 3° 
Such weddings may more properly be said 
To be executed then celibrated. 

Card. The marriage night 

Is the entrance into some prison. 

Ferd. And those joyes, 

Those lustfull pleasures, are like heavy sleepes 
Which doe fore-run mans mischiefe. 

Card. Fare you well. 35 

Wisdome begins at the end : remember it. 

[Exit.'] 

Duch. I thinke this speech betweene you both 
was studied. 
It came so roundly ofF. 

Ferd. You are my sister. 

This was my fathers poyniard : doe you see ? 
ril'd be loth to see't looke rusty, 'cause 'twas his: 40 
I would have you to give ore these chargeable 

revels ; 
A vizor and a masque are whispering roomes 
That were nev'r built for goodnesse: fare ye 
I well : 

And woemen like that part which, like the 

lamprey. 
Hath nev'r a bone in't. 

41 to give, B omits to. 

44 And . . . part. 1 708, And beware of that part. 



236 ®t)e 2Dutcl)e0fi?e of ^alf^ [act i. 

Duch. Fye sir ! 

Ferd. Nay, 

I meane the tongue ; varietie of courtship : 
What cannot a neate knave with a smooth tale 
Make a woman beleeve ? Farewell, lusty widowe. 

Duch. Shall this move me ? If all my royall 

kindred 
Lay in my way unto this marriage, 
ril'd make them my low foote-steps. And even 

now. 
Even in this hate, as men in some great battailes 
By apprehending danger, have atchiev'd 
Almost impossible actions (I have heard soul- 

diers say so). 
So I, through frights and threatnings, will assay 
This dangerous venture. Let old wives report 
I winck'd, and chose a husband ! Cariola, 
To thy knowne secricy, I have given up 
More then my life, my fame. 

Cariola. Both shall be safe : 

For I'll conceale this secret from the world 
As warily as those that trade in poyson 
Keepe poyson from their children. 

Duch. Thy protestation 

Is ingenious, and hearty : I beleeve it. 
Is Antonio come ? 

55 assay. BC, affray. 57 ivinck'd. A, whcked. 



Scene II] tETlje W>Xltt}^t&!St Of ^alf? 237 

CarL He attends you. 

Duch. Good deare soule, 

Leave me : but place thy selfe behind the 

arras, 65 

Where thou maist over-heare us. Wish me 
good speed, \_Cariola goes behind the arras. '\ 
For I am going into a wildernesse. 
Where I shall find nor path, nor friendly clewe, 
To be my guide. 

[Enter Antonio.'] 

I sent for you ; sit downe : 
Take pen and incke, and write : are you ready ? 
Antonio. Yes. 70 

Duch. What did I say ? 
Jnt. That I should write some-what. 
Duch. Oh, I remember: 

After this triumph and this large expence, 
It's fit (like thrifty husbands) we enquire 
What's laid up for to morrow. 75 

Jnt. So please your beauteous excellence. 
Duch. Beauteous } 

Indeed I thank you : I look yong for your 

sake. 
You have tane my cares upon you. 

Cariola . . . arras. 1708 places Cariola's exit after arraSj 
and Antonio's entrance after speedy — obviously too early. 
68 nor path. BC, no path. 

73 triumph. AB, triumphs ; Dyce, these triumphs. 
^6 Beauteous. Begins succeeding line in (^q. 



238 ®t)e SDutcliesisfe of ^alf^ [act i. 

Ant. rie fetch your grace 

The particulars of your revinew and expencc. 

Duch. Oh, you are an upright treasurer : but 
you mistooke, 
For when I said I meant to make enquiry 
What's layd up for to morrow, I did meane 
What's layd up yonder for me. 

Ant. Where ? 

Duch. In heaven. 

I am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should 
In perfect memory), and I pray sir, tell me 
Were not one better make it smiling, thus, 
Then in deepe groanes, and terrible ghastly 

lookes. 
As if the guifts we parted with procur'd 
That violent distraction ? 

Ant. Oh, much better. 

Duch. If I had a husband now, this care were 
quit : 
But I intend to make you over-seer. 
What good deede shall we first remember ? say. 

Ant. Begin with that first good deede began 
i'th' world. 
After mans creation, the sacrament of marriage. 

79 The. Ends preceding line in Qq. 86 make. BC, to make. 

89 distraction. AB, distruction. 

91 you. A, yon. 

93 that first . . . began. BC, that good deed that first began. 



Scene II] ^^j^e WWtt^tiiiit Of ^alf^ 239 

rid have you first provide for a good husband : 95 
Give him all. 

Duch. All ? 

Jnt. Yes, your excellent selfe. 

Duch. In a winding sheete ? 

Jnt. In a cople. 

Duch. St. Winfrid, that were a strange will ! 

^nt. 'Twere strange if there were no will 
in you 
To marry againe. 

Duch. What doe you thinke of marriage ? 100 

Jnt. I take't, as those that deny purgatory, 
It locally containes or heaven or hell ; 
There's no third place in't. 

Duch. How doe you affect it ? 

Jnt. My banishment, feeding my mellan- 
cholly, 
Would often reason thus 

Duch. Pray let's heare it. 105 

j^nt. Say a man never marry, nor have chil- 
dren. 
What takes that from him ? onely the bare 

name 
Of being a father, or the weake delight 
To see the little wanton ride a cocke-horse 

95 you first prowde. BC, you provide. 

96 Gi-ve him all. C, Give me all ; 1708, Give all. 

97 cople. B, couple, 98 Winfrid. Dyce, Winifred. 
99 strange. Dyce, probably correctly, infers stranger 



240 W^t 2Dutcl)e00e of ^alf^ [act i. 

Upon a painted sticke, or heare him chatter 
Like a taught starling. 

Duch. Fye, fie, what's all this ? 

One of your eyes is blood-shot ; use my ring 

to't. 
They say 'tis very soveraigne ; 'twas my wed- 
ding-ring, 
And I did vow never to part with it. 
But to my second husband. m, 

Jnt. You have parted with it now. 

Duch. Yes, to helpe your eye-sight. 

Jnt. You have made me starke blind. 

Duch. How ? 

Jnt. There is a sawcy and ambitious divell 
Is dauncing in this circle. 

Duch. Remoove him. 

Jnt. How ? 

Duch. There needs small conjuration, when 
your finger 
May doe it ; thus, is it fit ? 

Jnt. What sayd you ? He kneeles. 

Duch. Sir, 

This goodly roofe of yours is too low built ; 
I cannot stand upright in't, nor discourse. 
Without I raise it higher : raise your selfe. 
Or if you please, my hand to helpe you : so. 

Jnt. Ambition, madam, is a great man's 
madnes, 



scEN£ II.] tETi^e SDutcl^esfsie of ^alf^ 241 

That is not kept in chaines and close-pent- 

roomes, 
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 
With the wild noyce of pratling visitants, 130 

Which makes it lunatique, beyond all cure. 
Conceive not I am so stupid but I ayme 
Whereto your favours tend : but he's a foole 
That (being a cold) would thrust his hands i* 

th' fire 
To warme them. 

Duch. So, now the ground's broake, 135 

You may discover what a wealthy mine 
I make you lord of. 

Ant. Oh my unworthinesse ! 

Duch. You were ill to sell your selfe : 
This darkning of your worth is not like that 
Which trades - men use i'th' city ; their false 

lightes 140 

Are to rid bad wares ofF: and I must tell you. 
If you will know where breathes a compleat 

man 
(I speake it without flattery), turne your eyes, 
And progresse through your selfe. 

Ant. Were there nor heaven, nor hell, 145 

I should be honest : I have long serv'd vertue, 
And nev'r tane wages of her. 

1 30 visitants. AB, visitans. 

137 o/". A, off. 142 iviJI know. BC, would know. 



242 ^i^t 2Dutc^e00e of ^alf^ [act l 

T^jf"'^- , , Now she paies it. 

1 he misery of us that are borne great, 

We are forc'd to woe, because none dare woe us • 

And as a tyrant doubles with his words, \ 

And fearefully equivocates, so we 

Are forc'd to expresse our violent passions 

In ndles and in dreames, and leave the path 

Ut simple vertue, which was never made 

To seeme the thing it is not. Goe, go brag ,, 

You have left me heartlesse; mine is in your 

bosome : 
I hope ^twill multiply love there. You doe 

tremble : 
Make not your heart so dead a peece of flesh, 
lo feare more then to love me. Sir, be con- 

ndent. 

What is't distracts you? This is flesh and 

blood, sir; 
'Tis not the figure cut in allablaster 
Kneeles at my husbands tombe. Awake, awake 

man, ' 

I do here put of [f] all vaine ceremony, 
And onely doe appeare to you a yong widow : 

1 hat claimes you for her husband, and like a 

widow, 
I use but halfe a blush in't. ' ^ 

^^^' Truth speake for me, 

149 to 'zvoe, . . . dare -woe. C, to woo, . . . dare woo. 



6a 



Scene II] ^E^t WMtt^t^&t Of ^galf^ 243 

I will remaine the constant sanctuary 
Of your good name. 

Duch. I thank you, gentle love ; 

And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt 
(Being now my steward), here upon your lippes 170 
I signe your Quietus est. This you should have 

beg'd now : 
I have seene children oft eate sweete-meates 

thus. 
As fearefull to devoure them too soone. 
Jnt. But for your brothers ? 
Duch. Do not thinke of them : 

All discord without this circumference 175 

Is onely to be pittied, and not fear'd : 
Yet, should they know it, time will easily 
Scatter the tempest. 

Jnt. These words should be mine, 

And all the parts you have spoke, if some part 

of it 
Would not have savour'd flattery. 

Duch, Kneele. 

\_Enter Cariola.~\ 
Jnt. Hah! 180 

Duch. Be not amaz'd, this woman's of my 
councell : 
I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a cham- 
ber. 
Per verba \de'\ presently is absolute marriage. 

183 de. Omitted in all previous editions. 



244 ®^e mntc\)tii&t of ^alf^ [act i. 

Blesse, heaven, this sacred gordian, which let 

violence 
Never untwine ! ij 

Jnt. And may our sweet affections, like the 

sphears, 
Be still in motion ! 

^^f^- Quickning, ai^d make 

The like soft musique ! 

Jnt. That we may imitate the loving palmes 
(Best embleme of a peacefull marriage), 19^ 

That nev'r bore fruite devided ! 

Duch. What can the church force more ? 

Jnt. That fortune may not know an accident 
Either of joy, or sorrow, to devide 
Our fixed wishes ! 

Duch. How can the church build faster ? 195 

We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church 
That must but eccho this. Maid, stand a part ; 
I now am blinde ! 

^^^' What's your conceit in this ? 

Duch. I would have you leade your fortune by 
the hand 
Unto your marriage bed : 20( 

(You speake in me this, for we now are one.) 
We'll onely lie and talke together and plot 
T'appease my humorous kindred ; and if you 

please 
(Like the old tale, in Alexander and Lodowicke), 



Scene II. ] ^\)t WUtt^^tH&t Of ^Slf^ 245 

Lay a naked sword betweene us, keepe us chast. 205 
Oh, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosome. 
Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets ! 

[^Exeunf Duchess and Antonio.^ 
Cari. Whether the spirit of greatnes or of 
woman 
Raigne most in her, I know not ; but it shewes 
A fearefull rnadnes : I owe her much of pitty. 210 

\Exit.-\ 

Exeunt etc. Dyce. Qq and 1 708 merely mark Exeunt at end of 
Cariola's closing speech. 



Actus II. Scena I. 

\AmalJi. A Room in the Duchess* s Palace. '\ 

\Enter Bosola and Castruchio.'\ 

Bosola. You say you would faine be taken for 
an eminent courtier ? 

Castruchio, 'Tis the very maine of my ambi- 
tion. 

Bos. Let me see : you have a reasonable good 
face for't already, and your night-cap expresses 
your eares sufficient largely. I would have you 
learne to twirle the strings of your band with a 
good grace ; and in a set speech, at th' end of 
every sentence, to hum three or foure times, or 
blow your nose till it smart againe, to recover 
your memory. When you come to be a presi- 
dent in criminall causes, if you smile upon a 
prisoner, hang him ; but if you frowne upon him, 
and threaten him, let him be sure to scape the 
gallowes. 

Cast. I would be a very merrie president. 

Bos. Do not sup a nights ; 'twill beget you an 
admirable wit. 

Cast. Rather it would make me have a good 

Enter Bosola^ etc. Qq, Bosola, Castruchio, an Old Lady, 
Antonio, Delio, Duchesse, Rodorico, Grisolan. 



Scene I.] ^^t 2Dutct)es?0e of ^alf^ 247 

stomake to quarrel ; for they say, your roaring- 
boyes eate meate seldome, and that makes them 
so valiant. But how shall I know whether the 
people take me for an eminent fellow ? 

Bos. I will teach a tricke to know it : give 25 
out you lie a dying, and if you heare the com- 
mon people curse you, be sure you are taken for 
one of the prime night-caps. 

^E^iUr an Old Lady.~\ 
You come from painting now ? 

Old Lady. From what ? 30 

Bos. Why, from your scurvy face-physicke. 
To behold thee not painted enclines somewhat 
neere a miracle. These in thy face here were 
deepe rutts and foule sloughes the last progresse. 
There was a lady in France, that having had the 35 
small pockes, flead the skinne off her face, to 
make it more levell ; and whereas before she look'd 
like a nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abor- • 
tive hedge-hog. 

Old Lady. Doe you call this painting ? 40 

Bos. No, no, but you call [it] carreening of 
an old morphew'd lady, to make her disembogue 
againe : there's rough-cast phrase to your plas- 
tique. 

Old Lady. It seemes you are well acquainted 45 
with my closset ? 

33 These in. Possibly a word has dropped out after These. 
41 it. Supplied by C. 



248 XE^^t 2r>utc^e0flie of ^alf^ [act h. 

Bos. One would suspect it for a shop of 
witch-craft, to finde in it the fat of serpents, 
spawne of snakes, Jewes spittle, and their yong 
childrens ordure : and all these for the face. I 
would sooner eate a dead pidgeon, taken from 
the soles of the feete of one sicke of the plague, 
then kisse one of you fasting ! Here are two of 
you, whose sin of your youth is the very patri- 
mony of the physition ; makes him renew his 
foote-cloth with the spring, and change his high- 
priz'd curtezan with the fall of the leafe : I do 
wonder you doe not loath your selves. Observe 
my meditation now : 

What thing is in this outward forme of man 
To be belov'd ? we account it ominous, 
If nature doe produce a colt, or lambe, 
A fawne, or goate, in any limbe resembling 
A man ; and flye from 't as a prodegy. 
Man stands amaz'd to see his deformity 
In any other creature but himselfe. 
But in our owne flesh, though we beare diseases 
Which have their true names onely tane from 

beasts. 
As the most ulcerous woolfe, and swinish 

meazeall ; 

47-58 One . . . loat/i. This speech might be set up as irregular 
verse, the lines ending in nvitch-craft^ spaivne^ ordure^ eatCy feete^ 
fastings youth, physition, ^p^^^g^ f^^^^i loath. It is printed in Qq in 
unmetrical lines of varying length. 

50 children i ordure. A, children ordures. 



Scene L] Wi^t WUtt^t&^t Of ^Ult^ 249 

Though we are eaten up of lice, and wormes, 7° 

And though continually we beare about us 

A rotten and dead body, we delight 

To hide it in rich tissew : all our feare. 

Nay all our terrour, is least our phisition 

Should put us in the ground, to be made sweete. 75 

Your wife's gone to Rome : you two cople, 

and get you 
To the wels at Leuca, to recover your aches. 
I have other worke on foote : I observe our 
duchesse 

\_Exeunt Castruchio and Old Lady."] 
Is sicke a dayes, she puykes, her stomacke 

seethes. 
The fins of her eie-lids look most teeming blew, 80 
She waines i'th' cheeke, and waxes fat i'th' 

flanke ; 
And (contrary to our Italian fashion) 
Weares a loose-bodied gowne : there's some- 
what in't. 
I have a tricke may chance discover it, — 
A pretty one, — I have bought some apricocks, 85 
The first our spring yeelds. 

\^Enfer Antonio and Delioy talking together apart."] 
Delio. And so long since married f 

You amaze me. 

76-78 Tour . . . foote. Prose in previous editions. 77 Leuca. 
1708, Lucca. Enter . . . apart. 1708 gives : Enter Antonio, 
Delio. Vaughan adds the rest of the direction. 



250 ®l)e 2Duttl)e00e of ^alf^ [act ii. 

Antonio. Let me seale your lipps for ever ; 
For did I thinke that anything but th' ayre 
Could carry these words from you, I should 

wish 
You had no breath at all. Now sir, in your 

contemplation ? 
You are studdying to become a great wise fel- 
low ? 

Bos. Oh sir, the opinion of wisedome is a 
foule tettor, that runs all over a mans body : if 
simplicity direct us to have no evill, it directs us 
to a happy being : for the subtlest folly proceedes 
from the subtlest wisedome. Let me be simply 
honest. 

Ant. I do understand your in-side. 

Bos. Do you so ? 

Ant. Because you would not seeme to ap- 
peare to th* world 
PufF'd up with your preferment, you continue 
This out of fashion mellancholly : leave it, leave 
it. 

Bos. Give me leave to be honest in any 
phrase, in any complement whatsoever. Shall I 
confess my selfe to you ? I looke no higher then 
I can reach : they are the gods, that must rideio 
on winged horses. A lawyers mule of a slow 

93 tettor. BC, terror. 95 subtlest. C, subtilest. 
loi out of fashion. A, out ofFshashion. 



Scene I. ] ^K^t SE>UtCl)e0fi?e Of ^alf^ 2 5 I 

pace will both suit my disposition and businesse : 
for marke me, when a mans mind rides faster 
then his horse can gallop, they quickly both 
tyre. "o 

j^nt. You would looke up to heaven, but I 
thinke 
The divell, that rules i'th' aire, stands in your 
light. 

Bos. Oh sir, you are lord of the ascendant, 
chiefe man with the duchesse ; a duke was your 
cosen german, remov'd. Say you were lineally 115 
descended from King Pippin, or he himselfe, 
what of this ? search the heads of the greatest 
rivers in the world, you shall finde them but 
bubles of water. Some would thinke the soules 
of princes were brought forth by some more 120 
weighty cause then those of meaner persons : 
they are deceived, there's the same hand to them ; 
the like passions sway them, the same reason 
that makes a vicar goe to law for a tithe-pig, 
and undoe his neighbours, makes them spoile a 125 
whole province, and batter downe goodly cities, 
with the cannon. 

\_Enter Duchess y Ladies. "] 

Duchess. Your arme, Antonio : do I not grow 
fat? 
I am exceeding short-winded. Bosola, 

116 Pippin. 1708, Pepin. 124 goe. BC, to goe. 



252 W^t 2Dutclie0sfe of ^alf^ [act ii. 

I would have you, sir, provide for me a littor, ] 
Such a one as the Duchesse of Florence roade 
in. 
Bos. The duchesse us'd one when she was , 

great with childe. 
Duch. I thinke she did. Come hether, mend 
my ruffe, 
Here, when ? thou art such a tedious lady ; and 
Thy breath smells of lymmon pils, — would 

thou hadst done ! 
Shall I sound under thy fingers ? I am 
So troubled with the mother! 

Bos. [aside.~\ I feare to[o] much. 

Duch. I have heard you say that the French j 
courtie[r]s J 

Weare their hats on fore the king. 
Jnt. I have scene it. 
Duch. In the presence ? 

Jnt. Yes. 

Duch. Why should not we bring up that 
fashion ? 
'Tis ceremony more then duty, that consists 
In the remooving of a peece of felt : 
Be you the example to the rest o'th' court ; 
Put on your hat first. 

135 lymmon pils. 1708, Limon peel. 

136 sound. BC, 1708, swound. 
141 gq omit to assign this speech to the Duchess j 1708 is correctJ 



Scene I] W^t 'S>\ltt\)t$tSit Of ^dlt^ 253 

Jnt. You must pardon me : 145 

I have seene, in colder countries then in France, 
Nobles stand bare to th' prince ; and the distinc- 
tion 
M[e] thought show-d reverently. 

Bos. I have a present for your grace. 

Duch, For me, sir ? 

Bos. Apricocks, madam. 

Duch. O sir, where are they ? 150 

I have heard of none to yeare. 

Bos. [^aside.~\ Good, her colour rises. 

Duch. Indeed I thanke you : they are won- 
drous faire ones. 
What an unskilfull fellow is our gardiner ! 
We shall have none this moneth. »55 

Bos. Will not your grace pare them ? 

Duch. No, they tast of muske, me thinkes ; 
indeed they doe. 

Bos. I know not : yet I wish your grace had 
parde 'em. 

Duch. Why? 

Bos. I forgot to tell you the knave gardner 

(Onely to raise his profit by them the sooner) 160 
Did ripen them in horse-doung. 

Duch. O you jest. 

You shall judge : pray tast one. 

Jnt. Indeed madam, 

I doe not love the fruit. 

148 Methought. Qq, My thought. 



254 ^^t 2E>utctie00e of ^alf^ [act il 

Duch, Sir, you are loath 

To rob us of our dainties : 'tis a delicate fruit ; 
They say they are restorative ? 

Bos. 'Tis a pretty ij 

Art, this grafting. 

Duch. 'Tis so : a bettring of nature. 

Bos. To make a pippin grow upon a crab, 

A dampson on a black thorne \_Aside.'] How 

greedily she eats them ! 
A whirlewinde strike off these bawd-farthin- 

galls ! 
For, but for that and the loose-bodied gowne, 
I should have discover'd apparently 
The young spring-hall cutting a caper in her 
belly. 
Duch. I thanke you, Bosola : they were right 
good ones. 
If they doe not make me sicke. 

Jnt. How now madame ? 17 

Duch. This greene fruit and my stomake are 
not friends, — 
How they swell me ! 

Bos. [aside. '\ Nay, you are too much swell'd 

already ! 
Duch. Oh, I am in an extreame cold sweat! 
Bos. I am very sorry. \_Exit.~\ 

167 a bettring. BC, 1 708 omit a, as do Dyce and Vaughan ; _ 
Hazlitt retains it. 



Scene I] W)t Wntt\)tS>^t Ot ^M^ 255 

Duch. Lights to my chamber ! O, good An- 
tonio, 
I feare I am undone ! Exit Duchess \_and Ladies. "^ 

Delia. Lights there, lights ! 180 

Jnt. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost ! 
I feare she's falne in labour : and ther's left 
No time for her remove. 

Delio. Have you prepared 

Those ladies to attend her ? and procur'd 
That politique safe conveyance for the mid-wife 185 
Your dutchesse plotted ? 

Ant. I have. 

Delio. Make use then of this forc'd occasion : 
Give out that Bosola hath poyson'd her 
With these apricocks : that will give some colour 
For her keeping close. 

Ant. Fye, fie, the physitians 190 

Will then flocke to her. 

Delio. For that you may pretend 

She'll use some prepar'd antidote of her owne, 
Least the physitians should re-poyson her. 

Ant. I am lost in amazement : I know not 
what to think on't. Ex[eunt'\, 

181 my most trusty. BC, my trusty. 



256 Wi^t S>utcl^e0flfe of spalf^ [act n. 

SCENA II. 

\_Amalfi. A Hall in the Palace.'\ 
\Enter Bosola and Old Lady.~\ 

Bosola, So, so: ther's no question but her 
teatchines and most vulterous eating of the 
apricocks are apparant signes of breeding, now ? 

Old Lady. I am in hast, sir. 

Bos. There was a young wayting-woman had 
a monstrous desire to see the glasse-house. 

Old Lady. Nay, pray let me goe. 

Bos. And it was onely to know what strange 
instrument it was should swell up a glasse to the 
fashion of a womans belly. 

Old Lady. I will heare no more of the glasse- 
house. You are still abusing woemen ? 

Bos. Who, I ? no, onely (by the way now 
and then) mention your fraileties. The orrenge 
tree bears ripe and greene fruit and blossoms al- 
together : and some of you give entertainment 
for pure love ; but more, for more precious re- 

Enttr . . . Lady. 1 708, Enter Bosola, Lady. Dyce, probably 
correctly, makes Bosola enter alone, and places the Old Lady's 
entrance after breeding. A, followed by BC, reads : Bosola, old 
Lady, Antonio, Rodorigo, Grisolan : servants, Delio, Cariola. 

I This opening speech is probably a soliloquy, but it is just possible 
that Bosola is trying to gain information from the Old Lady. 

3 breedings noiv f 1708, breeding. Now? 

15 bean. AB, beare. 



Scene II. ] ^\^t WVLtt^tSSit Of ^alf^ 257 

ward. The lusty spring smels well : but droop- 
ing autumne tasts well. If we have the same 
golden showres that rained in the time of Jupi- 20 
ter the thunderer, you have the same Danaes 
still, to hold up their laps to receive them. 
Didst thou never study the mathematiques ? 

Old Lady. What's that, sir ? 

Bos. Why, to know the trick how to make a »5 
many lines meete in one center. Goe, goe ; give 
your foster-daughters good councell : tell them, 
that the divell takes delight to hang at a wo- 
mans girdle, like a false rusty watch that she can- 
not discerne how the time passes. 3° 

{Exit Old Lady."] 

[Enter Antonio, Roderigo, Delio, and Grisolan.'\ 

Antonio, Shut up the court gates. 

Roderigo, Why sir ? what's the danger ? 

Ant. Shut up the posternes presently, and 
call 
All the officers o'th' court. ^ 

Grisolan. I shall instantly. *** 

\Exit.'\ 

Ant. Who keepes the key o'th' parke-gate ? 

Rod. Forobosco. 

Ant. Let him bring't presently. 35 

\Enter Grisolan with Servants."] 

Servant. Oh, gentlemen o'th' court, the fowl- 
est treason ! 

ai Danaes. AB, Danes; C, Dames; 1708, Danae's. 



258 ®|)e mnttJ^t&at of ^alf^ [act h. 

Bos. [aside.'] If that these apricocks should i; 
be poysond now, 
Without my knowledge ! 

Serv. There was taken even now a Switzeri 
in the duchesse bed-chamber. 

2 Servant. A Switzer ? 

Serv. With a pistoll in his great cod-piece. 

Bos. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Serv. The cod-piece was the case for*t. 

2 Serv. There was a cunning traitor. Who 
would have search'd his cod-piece ? 

Serv. True, if he had kept out of the ladies 
chambers : and all the mowldes of his buttons 
were leaden bullets. 

2 Serv. Oh wicked caniball ! a fire-lock in*s 
cod-piece ? 

Serv. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 

2 Serv. To see what the divell can doe ! 

Jnt. All the office [r] s here ? 

Servants. We are. 

Jnt. Gentlemen, 
We have lost much plate you know ; and but 

this evening 
Jewels, to the value of foure thousand duck- 
ets. 
Are missing in the dutchesse cabinet. 
Are the gates shut ? 

53 plot. AB have no punctuation after this word. 
55 AIL 1708, Are all. 



Scene IL] tH^lje mUtd^t^fSt Of ^alf^ 259 

Serv. Yes. 

y^nt. 'Tis the duchesse pleasure 

Each officer be lockM into his chamber 
Till the sun-rysing : and to send the keyes 
Of all their chests and of their outward doores 
Into her bed-chamber. She is very sicke. 65 

Rod. At her pleasure. 

j^nt. She intreates you take't not ill : the 
innocent 
Shall be the more approved by it. 

Bos, Gentleman o'th* wood-yard, where's 

your Switzer now ? 
Serv. By this hand, 'twas creadably reported 70 
by one o'th' black-guard. 

'[Exeunt all except Antonio and Delia. '\ 
Delio. How fares it with the dutchesse ? 
Ant, She's expos'd 

Unto the worst of torture, paine, and feare. 
Delio. Speake to her all happy comfort. 
Ant. How I do play the foole with mine own 
danger ! 75 

You are this night, deere friend, to poast to 

Rome: 
My life lies in your service. 

Delio. Doe not doubt me. 

Ant. Oh, 'tis farre from me : and yet feare 
presents me 
Somewhat that looks like danger. 

79 looks. A, looke. 



26o Wi)t SE)utt^e00e of £palf^ [act n. 

Delio. Beleeve it, 

'Tis but the shadow of your feare, no more : 
How superstitiously we mind our evils ! 
The throwing downe salt, or crossing of a hare. 
Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, 
Or singing of a criket, are of powre 
To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well : 
I wish you all the joyes of a bless'd father ; 
And (for my faith) lay this unto your brest. 
Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted 
best. \_Exif.} 

[Enter Car to la. ~\ 

Cariola. Sir, you are the happy father of a 
sorine, 
Your wife commends him to you. 

Ant. Blessed comfort ! 

For heaven-sake tend her well : I'll presently 
Goe set a figure for's nativitie. Exeunt. 

SCENA III. 

[Amalji. The Court of the Palace. '\ 

[Enter Bosola, with a dark lanthorn.'\ 

Bosola. Sure I did heare a woman shreike : list, 
hah! 
And the sound came (if I received it right) 

Enter Cariola. 1 708 adds : with a Child. 

Enter . . . lanthorn. Supplied by 1 708 j Qq, Bosola, Antonio. 



Scene III] tCfje 2r>ttCcf)e00e of ^alf^ 261 

From the dutchesse lodgings. Ther's some strat- 
' agem 

In the confyning all our courtiers 
To their several! wards : I must have part of it 
My mtelhgence will freize else. List againe • ' 
It may be 'twas the mellencholly bird 
: Best friend of silence and of solitarines, 
The oowle, that schream'd so. Hah I Antonio ? 
[E^fer Antonio with a Candle, his Sword drawn."] 
Antonio. I heard some noyse : whose there ? 

what art thou ? speake. i^ 

Bos. Antonio ? put not your face nor body 
1 o such a forc'd expression of feare : 
I am Bosola, your friend. 

"l"}^' Bosola ? 

!(This moale do's undermine me) — heard vou 

not ^ 

A noyce even now ? 

Bos. From whence ? 

i "t^' XT X ■^^''"' ^^^ duchesse lodging. 15 

Bos. Not I : did you ? & 5 ^ 

'^^^' , , I did : or else I dream'd. 

; Bos. Let s walke towards it. 

' "^"!; . . No : it may be 'twas 

But the rismg of the winde. 

\.^'t , V^^y likely, 

^e thmkes 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat. 
,1 ou looke wildly. 

Enter . . , drawn. Supplied by 1708. 



262 tE^be Wntt^t&at of ^alf^ [act ii. 

j^nt, I have bin setting a figure 

For the dutchesse Jewells. 

Bos. Ah, and how falls your question ? 

Doe you find it radicall ? 

Jnt. What's that to you ? 

'Tis rather to be question'd what designe, 
When all men were commanded to their lodgings,. 
Makes you a night-walker ? 

Bos. In sooth, I'll tell you : 

Now all the court's asleepe, I thought the divell I 
Had least to doe here ; I came to say my prayers ; 
And if I doe offend you I doe so. 
You are a fine courtier. 

Jnt. {aside.) This fellow will undoe me. 
You gave the dutchesse apricocks to day : 
Pray heaven they were not poysond ! 

Bos. Poysond ? a Spanish figge 
For the imputation. 

Ant. Traitors are ever confident 

Till they are discover'd. There were jewels 

stolne too : 
In my conceit, none are to be suspected 
More then your selfe. 

Bos. You are a false steward. 

Ant. Sawcy slave ! I'll pull thee up by the 
rootes. 

Bos. May be the ruyne will crush you to 
peeces. 



Scene III] tE^Jje Wntt\)tfS$t Of ^Hlf^ 263 

Jnt. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir. 
Are you scarce warme, and doe you shew your 40 

sting ? 
You libell well, sir ? 

^^^' No, sir, copy it out, 

And I will set my hand to't. 

^^^' My nose bleedes : 

One that were superstitious would count 
This ominous, when it meerely comes by chance. 
Two letters, that are wrought here, for my name, 45 
Are drown'd in blood : meere accedent. For 

you, sir, 

I '11 take order : i'th morne you shall be safe : 

[Jside.'] 'Tis that must colour her lying-in. 
Sir, this doore you passe not : 

I doe not hold it fit that you come neere 50 

The dutchesse lodgings till you have quit your 

selfe. 
[Jsitie.] The great are like the base; nay^ they 

are the same^ 
When they seeke shamefull wates to avoid shame. 
I Ex\it'\. 

\ 41 Ant. is prefixed to this line in A, as if an intermediate speech 
of Bosola's had dropped out. Copy it out. Begins a new line in 

2<1- I" Qq? the lines end with ro'r, county chance^ name, order, 
•olour, not, neere, selfe. 

45 'wrought. C, 1708, Dyce, Hazlitt, Vaughan, Thayer, 
vrote, Cf. note, p. 392. 

51 quit. AB, quite. 



264 tK^t mntt^tUfSt of ^alf^ [act ii. 

Bos. Antonio here about did drop a paper, — 
Some of your helpe, falce-friend, — oh, here it is : 
What's here ? a childes nativitie calculated ? 

The dutchesse was deliver d of a sonne^ ^tweene 
the houres twelve and one^ in the nighty Anno 
Dom : l^O/f. (that's this yeere), decimo nono De- 
cemhris (that's this night), taken according to the 
meridian of Malfy (that's our dutchesse : happy 
discovery). The lord of the first house^ being com- 
bust in the ascendant^ signifies short life : and Adars^ 
being in a human signe^ joyn'd to the taile of the 
Dragon^ in the eighth house^ doth threaten a violent 
death. Catera non scrutantur. 
Why now 'tis most apparant : this precise fellow 
Is the dutchesse bawde : I have it to my wish. 
This is a parcell of intelligency 
Our courtiers were cas'd up for : it needes must 

follow 
That I must be committed, on pretence 
Of poysoning her : which I'll endure, and laugh 

at. 
If one could find the father now ! but that 
Time will discover. Old Castruchio 
I'th' morning poasts to Rome ; by him I'll 

send 

5 7 This nativity is printed in italics in gq, with the exception . 
of the dates, Mars, and the Latin conclusion. 

65 eighth, {^q, eight. 70 cas" d up. A, caside-up. 



Scene IIII] tl^^t WXltti)t&&t Of ^Hlf^ 265 

A letter that shall make her brothers galls 
Ore-flowe their livours. This was a thrifty way. 
Though lust doe masque in near so strange 

disguise^ 
She's oft found witty ^ but is never wise. \_Exit.~\ 

SCENA IIII. 

[Rome. A Room in the Palace of the Cardinal.'^ 
[Enter Cardinal and Julia. "^ 

Cardinal. Sit : thou art my best of wishes. 
Pre-thee tell me 
What tricke didst thou invent to come to Rome, 
Without thy husband ? 

Julia. Why, my lord, I told him 

I came to visit an old anchorite 
Heare, for devotion. 

Card. Thou art a witty false one — 

I meane to him. 

Julia. You have prevailed with me 

Beyond my strongest thoughts : I would not 

now 
Find you inconstant. 

Card. Do not put thy selfe 

To such a voluntary torture, which proceedes 
Out of your owne guilt. 

Julia. How, my lord ? 

Enter . , . Julia. Qq, Cardinall, and Julia, Servant, and Delio. 



266 Wi^t Dutcftesf0e of ^alf^ [act il 

Card. You feare 

My constancy, because you have approov'd 
Those giddy and wild turnings in your selfe. 

Julia, Did you ere find them ? 

Card. Sooth, generally for woemen : 

A man might strive to make glasse male-able 
Ere he should make them fixed. 

Julia. So, my lord. 

Card. We had need goe borrow that fantas- 
tique glasse 
Invented by Galileo the Florentine, 
To view an other spacious world i'th' moone, 
And looke to finde a constant woman there. 

Julia. This is very well, my lord. 

Card. Why do you weepe ? 

Are teares your justification ? the selfe-same 

teares 
Will fall into your husbands bosome, lady, 
With a loud protestation that you love him 
Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely, 
That's jealously, since I am very certaine 
You cannot make me cuckould. 

Julia. I'll go home 

To my husband. 

Card. You may thanke me, lady, 

I have taken you off your mellancholly pearch,| 

lo-ll Tou feare . . . approov^ d. One line in Qq. 

12 turnings. AB, turning. 26 make me. A, me make. 



Scene IIIL] ^\)t SDUtCtie^S^f Of ^alf^ 267 

Boare you upon my fist, and shewM you game, 
And let you flie at it. I pray the, kisse me. 30 
When thou was't with thy husband, thou was't 

watch'd 
Like a tame ellephant (still you are to thanke 

me) : 
Thou hadst onely kisses from him, and high 

feeding. 
But what delight was that .? 'twas just like one 
That hath a little fingring on the lute, 35 

Yet cannot tune it (still you are to thanke me). 
jfulia. You told me of a piteous wound i'th' 
heart. 
And a sicke livour, when you woed me first, 
And spake like one in physicke. 

Card, Who's that ? 

\_Enter Servant.~\ 
Rest firme, for my affection to thee, 4° 

Lightning mooves slow to't. 

Servant. Madam, a gentleman 

That's come post from Malfy desires to see 

you. 

Card. Let him enter : I'll with-draw. Exit. 

Serv. He sayes 

Your husband (old Castruchio) is come to 

Rome, 
Most pittifuUy tyr'd with riding post. \_Exit.~\ 45 

30 pray the. BC, prethee. 39 Query : Who is that ? 



268 ®^e SDutc^ie^fife of ^alf^ [act ii. 

[^Enter De/io.~\ 
Julia. Signior Delio ? 'tis one of my old 

suitors. 
Delia. I was bold to come and see you. 
Julia. Sir, you are wel-come. 

Delio. Do you lie here ? 
Julia. Sure, your owne experience 

Will satisfy you no : our Romane prelates 
Do not keepe lodging for ladies. 

Delio. Very well. s^,- 

I have brought you no comendations from your 

husband. 
For I know none by him. 

Julia. I heare he's come to Rome ? 

Delio. I never knew man and beast, of a horse 
and a knight. 
So weary of each other : if he had had a good 

backe. 
He would have undertooke to have borne his 

horse, 55 

His breech was so pittifuUy sore. 

Julia. Your laughter 

Is my pitty. 

Delio. Lady, I know not whether 

You want mony, but I have brought you some. 
Julia. From my husband ? 

47 to come and. BC, and come to. 
49 you no. BC, you now. 



Scene IIII] ^^t DUtCjCSfflle Of ^alf^ 269 

Delia. No, from mine owne allowance. 

'Julia. I must heare the condition, ere I be 

bound to take it. 60 

Delia. Looke on't, 'tis gold : hath it not a fine 
colour ? 

'Julia. I have a bird more beautifull. 

Delia. Try the sound on't. 

Julia. A lute-string far exceedes it : 
It hath no smell, like cassia, or cyvit. 
Nor is it phisicall, though some fond doctors 65 
Perswade us seeth[e't] in cullisses : Tie tell you, 

This is a creature bred by 

\_Enter Servant. "^ 

Servant. Your husband's come ; 

Hath deliver'd a letter to the Duke of Calabria, 

That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his 

wits. [£;f/V.] 

Julia. Sir, you heare. 7° 

'Pray let me know your busines, and your suite, 
As briefely as can be. 

Delia. With good speed : I would wish you 
(At such time as you are non-resident 
With your husband), my mistris. 75 

Julia. Sir, Tie go aske my husband if I shall. 
And straight returne your answere. Exit. 

63 lute-string. 1 708, Fiddle. 66 seethe t. AB, seeth's ; 

, seeth'd ; Dyce, seethe' t ; 1708, Perswade us, 'tis a Cordial. 
69 That. In Qq ends preceding line. 



270 ®|ie w>ntt^tssit of ^alf^ [act ii. 

Delio. Very fine ! 

Is this her wit, or honesty, that speakes thus ? 
I heard one say the duke was highly mov'd 
With a letter sent from Malfy. I doe feare 
Antonio is betray'd : how fearefully 
Shewes his ambition now, — unfortunate for- 
tune ! 
" They passe through whirle-pooles, and deepe 

woes doe shun, 
Who the event weigh ere the action's done. 

Exif. 

SCENA V. 

[^Rome. A Room in the CardinaP s Palace.'] 
[Enter] Cardinal! and Ferdinand, with a letter. 

Ferdinand. I have this night dig'd up a man- 
drake. 
Cardinal. Say you ? 

Ferd. And I am growne mad with't. 
Card. What's the prodegy ? 

Ferd. Read there, a sister dampn'd; she's loose 
i'th' hilts : 
Growne a notorious strumpet. 

Card. Speake lower. 

Ferd. Lower ? 

Rogues do not whisper't now, but seeke to 

publish't 
(As servants do the bounty of their lords) 



Scene V. ] ^E^j^t DUtC^ie06t Of ^alf^ 2 J I 

Aloud ; and with a covetuous searching eye, 
To marke who note them. Oh confusion sease 

her, 
She hath had most cunning baudes to serve her 

turne, 
And more secure conveyances for lust lo 

Than townes of garrison for service. 

Card. Is't possible ? 

Can this be certaine ? 

Ferd. Rubarbe, oh, for rubarbe 

To purge this choller ! here's the cursed day 
To prompt my memory, and here't shall sticke 
Till of her bleeding heart I make a spunge 15 

To wipe it out. 

Card. Why doe you make your selfe 

So wild a tempest ? 

Ferd. Would I could be one. 

That I might tosse her pallace 'bout her eares, 
Roote up her goodly forrests, blast her meades, 
And lay her generall territory as wast 20 

As she hath done her honors. 

Card. Shall our blood, 

The royall blood of Arragon and Castile, 
Be thus attaincted ? 

Ferd. -^.pply desperate physicke, 

We must not now use balsamum, but fire. 
The smarting cupping-glasse, for that's the meane 25 

7 covetuous. BC, covetous. 14 /lere't. A, here 'it. 



272 tlTbe 2Outc^e00e of £palf^ [act il 

To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. 

There is a kind of pitty in mine eie, — 

ril give it to my hand-kercher ; and now 'tis 

here, 
I'll bequeath this to her bastard. 

Card, What to do ? 

Ferd. Why, to make soft lint for his mother's 
wounds. 
When I have hewed her to peeces. 

Card. Curs'd creature ! 

Unequall nature, to place womens hearts 
So farre upon the left-side ! 

Ferd. Foolish men, 

That ere will trust their honour in a barke, 
Made of so slight, weake bull-rush as is woman, 35 
Apt every minnit to sinke it ! 

Card. Thus ignorance, when it hath pur- 
chas'd honour. 
It cannot weild it. 

Ferd. Me thinkes I see her laughing, 

Excellent hyenna ! Talke to me somewhat, 

quickly. 
Or my imagination will carry me 
To see her in the shamefuU act of sinne. 

Card. With whom ? 

30 mother'' s. A, mother. 35 isivoman. BC, this woman, 
37 Thus ignorance. Thus stands as a separate line in A, and 
seemingly as end of preceding line in BC. 

39 someivhaty quickly. Dyce omits the comma. 



Scene v] tlTlje SDuctl^efif^e of ^alf^ 273 

Ferd. Happily with some strong-thighM 

bargeman, 
Or one [o'Jth* wood-yard, that can quoit the 

sledge, 
Or tosse the barre, or else some lovely squire 
That carries coles up to her privy lodgings. 45 

Card. You flie beyond your reason. 
Ferd. Goe to, mistris ! 

'Tis not your whores milke that shall quench 

my wild-fire. 
But your whores blood. 

Card. How idlely shewes this rage, which car- 
ries you. 

As men convai'd by witches through the ayre 5° 
On violent whirle-windes ! this intemperate 

noyce 

Fitly resembles deafe-mens shrill discourse, 
Who talke aloud, thinking all other men 
To have their imperfection. 

Ferd. Have not you 

My palsey ? 

Card. Yes, I can be angry 55 

XVithout this rupture: there is not in nature 
A. thing that makes man so deform'd, so beastly, 

42 strong-thigh' d. Qq omit hyphen. 43 oneo'th'. AB, oneth'. 
45 privy. BC, private. 47 shall quench. BC, can quench. 
49 ivhich carries you. Begins next line in (^q. 

55 Tesy lean. Dyce, Yes, [but] I can. ^wzvj \ Yet I can. 

56 rupture. Dyce queries, rapture. 



274 turtle Wntt^t^sit of ^alf^ [act ii. 

As doth intemperate anger. Chide your selfe. 
You have divers men, who never yet exprest 
Their strong desire of rest, but by unrest, 
By vexing of themselves. Come, put your selfe: 
In tune. 

Fer^i. So, I will onely study to seeme 

The thing I am not. I could kill her now, | 
In you, or in my selfe ; for I do thinke 
It is some sinne in us heaven doth revenge 
By her. 

Card, Are you starke mad ? 

Ferd. I would have their bodies 

Burn't in a coale-pit, with the ventage stop'd. 
That their curs'd smoake might not ascend to 

heaven : 
Or dippe the sheetes they lie in, in pitch or sul- 

phure. 
Wrap them in't, and then light them like a 

match : 
Or else to boile their bastard to a cullisse, ! 

And give't his leacherous father, to renew 
The sinne of his backe. 

Card. ril leave you. 

Ferd. Nay, I have done. 

I am confident, had I bin damn'd in hell. 
And should have heard of this, it would have 

put me 

71/0 hoile. Dyce, perhaps correcdy, to-boil. 



Scene V. ] XE^t WVLtt^t&iit Of ^alf^ 275 

Into a cold sweat. In, in ! Til go sleepe. 
Till I know who leapes my sister, I'll not stirre : 
That knowne, I'll finde scorpions to string my 

whips. 
And fix her in a generall ecclipse. Exeunt, 

78 string. BC, sting. 



Actus III. Scena I. 

\Amalfi. A Room in the Duchess* s Palace^ 

\Enter Antonio and Delio.'^ 

Antonio. Our noble friend, my most beloved 
Delio, 
Oh, you have bin a stranger long at court. 
Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand ? 
Delio. I did sir, and how faires your noble 

duchesse ? 
Ant. Right fortunately well : she's an excel- 
lent 
Feeder of pedegrees : since you last saw her. 
She hath had two children more, a sonne and 
daughter. 
Delio. Me thinkes 'twas yester-day. Let me 
but wincke, 
And not behold your face, which to mine eye 
Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dreame 
It were within this halfe houre. 

Ant. You have not bin in law, friend Delio, 
Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court. 
Nor beg'd the reversion of some great mans 
place. 

Enter . . . Delio. Qq, Antonio, and Delio, Duchesse, Ferdi- 
nand, Bosola. 



Scene I. ] Wi)t 2Dutc^e00e of ^alf^ 277 

Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth 

make 15 

Your time so insencibly hasten. 

Delio. 'Pray sir, tell me. 

Hath not this newes arriv'd yet to the eare 
Of the lord cardinall ? 

j^nt, I feare it hath : 

The Lord Ferdinand, that's newly come to 

court. 
Doth beare himselfe right dangerously. 

Delio. Pray why ? 20 

j^nt. He is so quiet, that he seemes to sleepe 
The tempest out (as dormise do in winter). 
Those houses that are haunted are most still. 
Till the divell be up. 

De/io. What say the common people ? 

Jnt. The common-rable do directly say 25 

She is a strumpet. 

Delio. And your graver heades. 

Which would be pollitique, what censure they ? 

Jnt. They do observe, I grow to infinite 
purchase 
The leaft-hand way ; and all suppose the duch- 

esse 

Would amend it, if she could : for, say they, 30 
Great princes, though they grudge their officers 
Should have such large and unconfined meanes 
To get wealth under them, will not complaine 



278 tETjie 2l>utcl^e00e of ^alf^ [ act m. 

Least thereby they should make them odious 
Unto the people : for other obligation 
Of love, or marriage, betweene her and me. 
They never dreame of. 

Delia. The Lord Ferdinand 

Is going to bed. 

\_Enter Ferdinand^ Duchess, and Bosola.~\ 

Ferdinand. I'll instantly to bed, 
For I am weary : I am to be-speake 
A husband for you. 

Duchess. For me sir ? 'pray who is't ? 

Ferd. The great Count Malateste. 

Duch. Fye upon him ! 

A count ? he's a meere sticke of sugar-candy. 
You may looke quite thorough him. When I 

choose 
A husband, I will marry for your honour. 

Ferd. You shall do well in't. How is't, worthy 
Antonio ? 

Duch. But, sir, I am to have private confer- 
ence with you 
About a scandalous report is spread 
Touching mine honour. 

Ferd. Let me be ever deafe to't : 

One of Pasquils paper-bullets, court calumney, 
A pestilent ayre, which princes pallaces 

37 dreame of. A, off. 39 to be-speake. A, to be be-speake. 
43 thorough. C, through. 



Scene L] ®|)e WUtt^tii&t Of 9^dilt^ 279 

Are seldome purg'd of. Yet, say that it were 

true, 
I powre it in your bosome, my fix'd love 
Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay deny 
Faults, were they apparant in you. Goe, be safe 
In your owne innocency. 

Duch. Oh bless'd comfort ! 55 

This deadly aire is purg'd. 

Exeunt \all except Ferdinand and Bosola.'\ 

Ferd. Her guilt treads on 

Hot burning cultures. Now, Bosola, 
How thrives our intelligence ? 

Bosola. Sir, uncertainly : 

'Tis rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but 
By whom, we may go read i'th' starres. 

Ferd. Why some 60 

Hold opinion all things are written there. 

Bos. Yes, if we could find spectacles to read 
them. 
I do suspect there hath bin some sorcery 
Us'd on the duchesse. 

Ferd. Sorcery ? to what purpose ? 

Bos. To make her doate on some desertles 
fellow 65 

She shames to acknowledge. 

Ferd. Can your faith give way 

SI of. J^q, off. 54 were. AB, where. 

57 Dyce places Bosola's entrance here, cultures. Dyce, coulters. 



28o tB^lje 2Dutctiefl?s;e of ^alf^ [act m. 

To thinke there's powre in potions or in 

charmes, 
To make us love, whether we will or no ? 
Bos. Most certainely. 

Ferd. Away ! these are meere guUeries, hor- 
red things 
Invented by some cheating mounte-banckes 
To abuse us. Do you thinke that hearbes or 

charmes 
Can force the will ? Some trialls have bin made 
In this foolish practise ; but the ingredients 
Were lenative poysons, such as are of force 
To make the patient mad ; and straight the 

witch 
Sweares by equivocation they are in love. 
The witch-craft lies in her rancke blood. This 

night 
I will force confession from her. You told me 
You had got, within these two dayes, a false 

key 
Into her bed-chamber. 

Bos, I have. 

Ferd, As I would wish. 

Bos. What doe you intend to doe ? 
Ferd. Can you ghesse ? 

Bos. No. 

Ferd, Doe not aske then. 

He that can compasse me, and know my drifts, 



Scene II.] ^B^t WntC\)t&&t Of ^Ult^ 28 1 

May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world, 
And sounded all her quick-sands. 

Bos. I doe not 85 

Thinke so. 

Ferd. What doe you thinke then, pray ? 

Bos. That you 

Are your owne chronicle too much, and grosly 
Flatter your selfe. 

Ferd. Give me thy hand ; I thanke thee : 
I never gave pention but to flatterers 
Till I entertained thee. Farewell : 90 

That friend a great mans mine strongely checks .^ 
Who railes into his belief e all his defects. 

Exeunt. 

SCENA II. 

\Amalfi. The Bed- Chamber of the Duchess. '\ 
\_Enter Duchess y Antonio y and Car to la. "^ 

Duchess. Bring me the casket hither, and the 
glasse. 
You get no lodging here to night, my lord. 

Antonio. Indeed, I must perswade one. 

Duch. Very good : 

I hope in time 'twill grow into a custome, 

87 Are. Printed in preceding line in all editions. 

chronicle. Query : chronicler. 
Enter . . . Cariola. Qq, Dutchesse, Antonio, Cariola, Ferdi- 
nand, Bosola, Officers. 



282 tD^l^e 2Dutcl)efifs?e of ^alf^ [acthi. 

That noble men shall come with cap and knee, 
To purchase a nights lodging of their wives. 

Ant. I must lye here. 

Duch. Must ? you are a lord of misse-rule. 

Jnt. Indeed, my rule is onely in the night. 

Duch. To what use will you put me ? 

Jnt. Wee'll sleepe together. 

Duch. Alas, what pleasure can two lovers find 
in sleepe ? 

Cariola. My lord, I lye with her often : and I 
know 
She'll much disquiet you. 

Ant. See, you are complain'd of. 

Cari. For she's the sprawlingst bedfellow. 

Ant. I shall like her the better for that. 

Cari. Sir, shall I aske you a question ? 

Ant. I pray thee, Cariola. 

Cari. Wherefore still when you lie with my 
lady 
Doe you rise so early ? 

Ant. Labouring men 

Count the clocke oftnest, Cariola, 
Are glad when their task's ended. 

Duch. I'll stop your mouth. 

Ant. Nay, that's but one ; Venus had two 
soft doves 



5 nohle men. Dyce, noblemen. 
16 1 pray thee. 1708, I, prithee; Dyce, Ay, pray thee. 



i 



Scene II.] tEPj^e 2l>utcl)e00e of £palf^ 283 

To draw her chariot : I must have another. 
When wilt thou marry, Cariola ? 

Cari. Never, my lord. 

Ant. O fie upon this single life ! forgoe it. 
We read how Daphne, for her peevish slight, 25 
Became a fruitlesse bay-tree ; Sirinx turn'd 
To the pale empty reede ; Anaxarete 
Was frozen into marble: whereas those 
Which married, or prov'd kind unto their 

friends, 
Were, by a gracious influence, transhap'd 30 

Into the olifFe, pomgranet, mulbery ; 
Became flowres, precious stones, or eminent 

starres. 
Cari. This is a vaine poetry : but I pray you 

tell me, 
If there were propos'd me, wisdome, riches, and 

beauty. 
In three severall young men, which should I 

choose ? 35 

Ant. 'Tis a hard question : this was Paris 

case. 
And he was blind in't, and there was great 

cause : 
For how was't possible he could judge right, 

25 slight. Qq, 1708 ; but Dyce and Hazlitt, without noting the 
early reading, ^we flighty which is probably what Webster wrote. 

26 Sirinx. (^q, Siriux. 27 Anaxarete. Qq, Anaxarate. 
33 S'^ery : omit a. 38 could. BC, should. 



284 ^^t 2E>utciiefi;0e of £palf^ [act m 

Having three amorous goddesses in view, 
And they starcke naked ? 'twas a motion 
Were able to be-night the apprehention 
Of the seveerest counsellor of Europe. 
Now I looke on both your faces, so well form'd. 
It puts me in mind of a question I would aske. 
Cari. Whatis't? 
Jnt. I doe wonder why hard-favour*d 

ladies, 4 

For the most part, keepe worse-favour'd waiet- | 

ing women 
To attend them, and cannot endure faire ones. 

Duch. Oh, that's soone answer'd. 
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter 
Desire to have his dwelling next doore to the || 

shop 
Of an excellent picture-maker ? 'twould dis- 
grace 
His face-making, and undoe him. I pre-thee 
When were we so merry ? My haire tangles. 
Jnt. 'Pray-thee, Cariola, let's steale forth the 

roome. 
And let her talke to her selfe : I have divers 

times 
Serv'd her the like, when she hath chafde ex- 

treamely. 
I love to see her angry : softly, Cariola. 

Exeunt [^Antonio and Cariola] . 

53 io merry. B and C omit so. 56 hath. BC, had. 



Scene II] ^^t WXltt^t&^t Of ^alf^ 285 

Duch, Doth not the colour of my haire 'gin 

to change ? 
When I waxe gray, I shall have all the court 
Powder their haire with arras, to be like me. 60 
You have cause to love me, I entred you into 

my heart 

[Enter Ferdinand unseen. "^ 
Before you would vouchsafe to call for the 

keyes. 
We shall one day have my brothers take you 

napping : 
Me thinkes his presence (being now in court) 
Should make you keepe your owne bed : but 

you'll say 65 

Love mixt with feare is sweetest. I'll assure 

you 
You shall get no more children till my brothers 
Consent to be your ghossips. Have you lost your 

tongue .? 
'Tis welcome: 

For know, whether I am doomb'd to live, or die, 70 
I can doe both like a prince. 

Ferdinand gives her a ponyard, 

58 ^gin to change. Query : omit to. 

61 I entred you into. BC, I entred into ; 1 708, it enter' d into. 
Query : you entred into. 

Enter . . . unseen. 1708. 63 brothers. Query: brother. 

69 ' Tis ivelcome. Ends preceding line in Qq ; the present ar- 
rangement is that of 1708. 



286 XB\)t 2Dutc()e00e of ^alf^ [act m. 

Ferdinand. Die then, quickie. 

Vertue, where art thou hid ? what hideous thing 
Is it, that doth ecclipze thee ? 

Duch, 'Pray sir, heare me. 

Ferd. Or is it true, thou art but a bare name, 
And no essentiall thing ? 

Duch. Sir, — 

Ferd. Doe not speake. 

Duch. No sir : 
I will plant my soule in mine eares, to heare you. 

Ferd. Oh most imperfect light of humaine 
reason. 
That mak'st [us] so unhappy, to fore see 
What we can least prevent ! Pursue thy wishes, % 
And glory in them : there's in shame no comfort. 
But to be past all bounds and sence of shame. 

Duch. I pray sir, heare me : I am married. 

Ferd. So ! 

Duch. Happily, not to your liking : but for 
that, 
Alas, your sheeres doe come untimely now 
To clip the birds wings that's already flowne. 
Will you see my husband ? 

Ferd. Yes, if I could change 

Eyes with a basilisque. 

73 doth ecclipze. BC, doth clip. 

78 most. BC, 1708, must. 79 us. Supplied by 1708. 

87 could change. Begins following line in Qq. 



Scene II.] XE^^t 2E>utcliesf0e of ^alf^ 287 

Duch. Sure, you came hither 

By his con[fe]deracy. 

Ferd. The howling of a wolfe 

Is musicke to thee, schrech-owle, — pre'thee 

peace. 9° 

What ere thou art that hast enjoy'd my sister 
(For I am sure thou hearst me), for thine owne 

sake 
Let me not know thee. I came hither, prepared 
To worke thy discovery : yet am now per- 

swaded 
It would beget such violent effects 95 

As would damne us both. I would not for ten 

millions 
I had beheld thee : therefore use all meanes 
I never may have knowledge of thy name ; 
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life. 
On that condition. And for thee, vilde woman, 100 
If thou doe wish thy leacher may grow old 
In thy embracements, I would have thee build 
Such a roome for him as our anchorites 
To holier use enhabite. Let not the sunne 
Shine on him, till he's dead : let dogs and mon- 
keys 105 

89 confederacy. AB, consideracy. It is possible that this is 
confideracy : the type is not perfectly clear. 90 tAee. Qq, the. 
1708 corrects. 92 hearst. BC, heardst. thine. BC, mine. 
95 %uch 'violent. BC, 1708, so violent. 96 damne. A, dampe. 
100 vilde. B, wilde ; 1 708, vile. 



288 tl^\)t 2r>tttclie00e of ^alf^ [act m. 

Onely converse with him, and such dombe 

things 
To whom nature denies use, to sound his name. 
Doe not keepe a paraqueto, least she learne it ; 
If thou doe love him, cut out thine owne 

tongue. 
Least it bewray him. 

Buch. Why might not I marry ? 

I have not gone about, in this, to create 
Any new world, or custome. 

^^rd. Thou art undone : 

And thou hast ta'ne that massy sheete of lead 
That hid thy husbands bones, and foulded it 
About my heart. 

Duch. Mine bleedes for't. 

^^rd. Thine ? thy heart ? ij 

What should I nam't, unlesse a hollow bullet 
Fill'd with unquenchable wild-fire ? 

-Duch. You are in this 

Too strict : and were you not my princely 

brother, 

I would say, to [o] wilfull. My reputation ^: 

Is safe. 

Ferd. Dost thou know what reputation is ? 12 
I'll tell thee, — to small purpose, since th'in- 

struction 
Comes now too late. 

113 tnassy. A, massiy. 



Scene II.] ^^t 2r>UtCl|e00e Of ^Hlf^ 289 

Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death, 
Would travell ore the world ; and it was con- 
cluded 
That they should part, and take three severall 

wayes. 125 

Death told them, they should find him in great 

battailes. 
Or cities plagu'd with plagues : Love gives them 

councell 
To enquire for him 'mongst unambitious shep- 

heards. 
Where dowries were not talk'd of; and some- 
times 
'Mongst quiet kindred, that had nothing left 130 
By their dead parents : Stay (quoth Reputation), 
Doe not forsake me : for it is my nature. 
If once I part from any man I meete, 
I am never found againe. And so for you : 
You have shooke hands with Reputation, 135 

And made him invisible. So fare you well. 
I will never see you more. 

Duch. Why should onely I, 

Of all the other princes of the world. 
Be cas'de-up, like a holy relique ? I have youth 
And a litle beautie. 

124 it nvas. Query : 'twas. 
35 shooke. A, shocked. Dyce notes that some copies of A 
copy. 



290 tB^t 2r>utc^e0s;e of ^alf^ [act m. 

Ferd. So you have some virgins j' 

That are witches. I will never see thee more. 

Exit. I 
E;!ter Antonio with a pis tolly [and Cariola.'] I 

Duch. You saw this apparition ? 

Antonio. Yes : we are 

Betraid ; how came he hither ? I should turne 
This, to thee, for that. 

Cariola. Pray sir, doe : and when 

That you have cleft my heart, you shall read 
there i 

Mine innocence. 

Duch. That gallery gave him entrance. 

Ant. I would this terrible thing would come 
againe. 
That, standing on my guard, I might relate 
My warrantable love. Ha, what meanes this ? 

She shewes the poniard. 

Duch. He left this with me. 

Ant. And it seemes did wishi 

You would use it on your selfe ? 

Duch. His action seem'd ! 

To intend so much. I 

Ant. This hath a handle to't. 

As well as a point : turne it towards him, and 

Enter . . . pistoll. In Qq this follows apparition. 
151 seern d. Begins following line in Qq. 
153 and. Begins next line in Qq. 



Scene II. ] tETlje WVitti^t$$t Of ^alf^ 29 I 

So fasten the keene edge in his rancke gall. 

[^Knocking within.'^ 
How now ? who knocks ? more earthquakes ? 

Duch. I stand 155 

As if a myne, beneath my feete, were ready 
To be blowne up. 

Cari. 'Tis Bosola. 

Duch, Away ! 

Oh misery ! me thinkes unjust actions 
Should weare these masques and curtaines ; and 

not we. 
You must instantly part hence : I have fashion'd 

it already. Ex\it\ Jnt[omo.'] 160 

[^Enter Bosola.~\ 
Bosola. The duke your brother is ta'ne up in 
a whirlewind, 
Hath tooke horse, and's rid poast to Rome. 
Duch. So late? 

Bos. He told me, as he mounted into th' 
sadle. 
You were undone. 

Duch. Indeed, I am very neere it. 

Bos. What's the matter ? 165 

Duch. Antonio, the master of our house- 
hold. 
Hath dealt so falsely with me in's accounts : 
My brother stood engag'd with me for money 

158 unjust, Query: that unjust. 



292 tlT^e mnttl^t&^t of ^alfig [act m. 

Ta'ne up of certaine Neopolitane Jewes, j 

And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeyt. 
Bos. Strange ! this is cunning. 
Duch. And hereupon 

My brothers bills at Naples are protested 
Against. Call up our officers. 

Bos. I shall. Exit. 

[^Enter Antonio.'] 
Duch. The place that you must flye to is 
Ancona : 
Hire a house there. Fll send after you 17 

My treasure and my Jewells. Our weake 

safetie 
Runnes upon engenous wheeles : short sillables 
Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you 
Of such a fained crime as Tasso calls 
Magnanima mensogna : a noble lie, 18 

'Cause it must shield our honors. Harke, they 
are comming. 

\_Enter Boso/a and Gentlemen. '\ 
Ant. Will your grace heare me ? 
Duch. I have got well by you ; you have 
yeelded me 
A million of losse : I am like to inherit 
The peoples curses for your stewardship. 18 

1 70 forfeyt. Query : forfeyted. 

171 this . . , cunning. Dyce gives this as an aside. 
173 our officers. BC, the officers. 

177 engenous. BC, ingenious. 



Scene II.] ^^t V^Xltti^tii&t Of ^alf^ 293 

You had the tricke in audit time to be sicke, 
Till I had sign'd your ^ietus ; and that cur'de 

you 
Without helpe of a doctor. Gentlemen, 
I would have this man be an example to you 

all; 
So shall you hold my favour : I pray let him ; 190 
For h'as done that, alas, you would not thinke 

of, 
And (because I intend to be rid of him) 
I meane not to publish. Use your fortune 
else-where. 
Ant. I am strongely arm'd to brooke my 
over-throw. 
As commonly men beare with a hard yeere : 195 
I will not blame the cause on't ; but doe thinke 
The necessitie of my malevolent starre 
Procures this, not her humour. O the in- 
constant 
And rotten ground of service ! you may see, 
'Tis ev'n like him that in a winter night 200 

Takes a long slumber ore a dying fire, 
A-loth to part from't : yet parts thence as cold 
As when he first sat downe. 

Duch. We doe confiscate. 

Towards the satisfying of your accounts. 
All that you have. 

202 A-loth. BC, and some copies of A (Dyce), As loath. 
as cold. B, are cold. 



294 ^^t SDutcl^esJ^e of ^alf^ [act m. 

Jnt. I am all yours : and 'tis very fit at 

All mine should be so. 

Duch. So, sir ; you have your passe. 

Ant. You may see, gentlemen, what 'tis to 
serve 
A prince with body and soule. Exit. 

Bosola. Heere's an example for extortion : 
what moysture is drawne out of the sea, whena^ 
fowle weather comes, powres downe, and runnes 
into the sea againe. 

Duch. I would know what are your opinions 
Of this Antonio. 

2. Officer. He could not abide to see a pigges^i 
head gaping : I thought your grace would finde 
him a Jew. 

J. Off. I would you had bin his officer, for 
your owne sake. 

^. Off. You would have had more money. 

1. Off. He stop'd his eares with blacke wooll 
and to those came to him for money said he was 
thicke of hearing. 

2. Off. Some said he was an hermophrodite, 
for he could not abide a woman. 

^. Off. How scurvy prowd he would looke 
when the treasury was full ! Well, let him 
goe. 

209 extortion. C, exhortation. 221 Ais. Omitted in BC, 1 708. 
Z26 he nvQuld. BC, would he. 









Scene II] ®|)e 'mUtt^t&^t Of ^Ult^ 295 

I. Off. Yes, and the chippings of the buttrey 

fly after him, to scowre his gold chaine. ^3° 

Exeunt \OfficersJ\ 
Duch. Leave us. What doe you thinke of 

these ? 
Bos, That these are rogues that in's pro- 
speritie, 

But to have waited on his fortune, could have 
wish'd 

His durty stirrop rivited through their noses. 

And follow'd after's mule, like a beare in a 

ring ; ^35 

Would have prostituted their daughters to his 
lust; 

Made their first-borne intelligencers ; thought 
none happy 

But such as were borne under his bless'd plan- 
net 

And wore his livory : and doe these lyce drop 
off now ? 

Well, never looke to have the like againe ; 24° 

He hath left a sort of flattring rogues behind him; 

Their doombe must follow. Princes pay flat- 
terers 

In their owne money : flatterers dissemble their 
vices, 

230 gold. BC, golden. 233 on his. BC, on this. 

237 first-borne. A, first-borne and ; some copies of A have 
and^ Dyce notes. 238 bless'd. Omitted in BC, 1708. 



296 tKtie 2Dutc]^e00e of ^alf^ [act m. 

And they dissemble their Hes ; that's justice : 
Alas, poore gentleman ! H5 

Duch. Poore ? he hath amply fill'd his cofers. 
Bos. Sure, he was too honest. Pluto, the god 

of riches, 
When he's sent by Jupiter to any man. 
He goes limping, to signifie that wealth 
That comes on God's name comes slowly; but 

when he's sent ^5^ 

On the divells arrand, he rides poast, and comes 

in by scuttles. 
Let me shew you what a most unvalu'd Jewell 
You have in a wanton humour throwne away. 
To blesse the man shall find him. He was an 

excellent 
Courtier and most faithfuU ; a souldier, that 

thought it *5i 

As beastly to know his owne value too little 
As devillish to acknowledge it too much. ; 

Both his vertue and forme deserv'd a farre better j 

fortune : \ 

His discourse rather delighted to judge it selfe 1 

then shew it selfe : 
His breast was filled with all perfection, a6| 

And yet it seem'd a private whispring roome, 
It made so little noyse oft. 

251 On the. A, One the. 

262 It made. Query: He made. oft. 1708, on' t. 



Scene II.] ^j^t WVLtt^t&&t Of ^alf^ 297 

Duch. But he was basely descended. 

Bos. Will you make your selfe a mercinary 

herald, 
Rather to examine mens pedegrees then ver- 

tues ? 265 

You shall want him : 

For know an honest states-man to a prince 
Is like a cedar planted by a spring : 
The spring bathes the trees roote, the grateful! 

tree 
Rewards it with his shadow : you have not 

done so. 270 

I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes on 
Two politisians rotten bladders, tide 
Together with an intelligencers hart-string, 
Then depend on so changeable a princes favour. 
Fare-thee-well, Antonio : since the mallice of 

the world 275 

Would needes downe with thee, it cannot be 

sayd yet 
That any ill happened unto thee. 
Considering thy fall was accompanied with 

vertue. 
Duch. Oh, you render me excellent musicke. 
Bos. Say you ? 

271 I ivould . . . hart-string. Two lines in Qq, the first line 
ending in politisians. 

278 Considering . . . fall. Ends preceding line in Qq. 



298 tET^e 2r>utcje0fi?e of ®alf^ [act m. 

Duch. This good one that you speake of is 

my husband. ^^* 

Bos. Do I not dreame ? can this ambitious 
age 
Have so much goodnes in't as to prefer 
A man, meerely for worth, without these shad- 
owes 
Of wealth and painted honors ? possible ? 
Duch. I have had three children by him. 
Bos. Fortunate lady ! aSJ 

For you have made your private nuptiall bed 
The humble and faire seminary of peace. 
No question but : many an unbenific'd scholler 
Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoyce 
That some preferment in the world can yet 
Arise from merit. The virgins of your land 
That have no dowries shall hope, your example 
Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you 

want «l 

Souldiers, 'twould make the very Turkes and I 

Moores ' 

Turne Christians, and serve you for this act. 29 

283 This line is omitted in BC ; 1708 has : prefer true Merit 
I To Wealth, etc. 

1% J peace. C puts a colon after /)Cflcc. 

288 but. BC have no punctuation after but. This reading in- 
volving a full stop after peace in preceding line seems preferable, 
but as A makes sense no change has been made. 

292 hope. C has no pause after this word. 



Scene II] XE^\)t ^ntt\)tSif3it Of ^alf^ 299 

Last, the neglected poets of your time, 

In honour of this trophee of a man, 

RaisM by that curious engine, your white hand. 

Shall thanke you, in your grave, for't ; and 

make that 
More reverend then all the cabinets 300 

Of living princes. For Antonio, 
His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, 
When heralds shall want coates to sell to men. 

Duch. As I taste comfort in this friendly 
speech. 
So would I finde concealement. 305 

Bos. O the secret of my prince. 
Which I will weare on th'in-side of my heart ! 

Duch. You shall take charge of all my coyne 
and jewels. 
And follow him, for he retires himselfe 
To Ancona. 

Bos. So. 

Duch. Whither, within few dayes,3io 

I meane to follow thee. 

Bos. Let me thinke : 

I would wish your grace to faigne a pilgrimage 
To our Lady of Loretto (scarce seaven leagues 
From faire Ancona), so may you depart 
Your country with more honour, and your flight 3^5 
Will seeme a princely progresse, retaining 
Your usuall traine about you. 



300 tETtie 2r>utct)es(fife of £palf^ [act m. 

Duch. Sir, your direction 

Shall lead me hj the hand. 

Can. In my opinion, she were better pro- 
gresse 

To the bathes at Leuca, or go visit the Spaw 3« 
In Germany, for, if you will beleeve me, 
I do not like this jesting with religion, 
This faigned pilgrimage. 

Duch. Thou art a superstitious foole : 
Prepare us instantly for our departure. 3*? 

Past sorrowes, let us moderately lament them. 
For those to come, seeke wisely, to prevent 

them. [^Exeunt Duchess and Cario/a.'] I 

Bos. A polititian is the divells quilted anvell ; 1 

He fashions all sinnes on him, and the blowes 

Are never heard; he may worke in a ladies ^ 

chamber ^ 

(As here for proofe). What rests, but I reveale j 

All to my lord ? oh, this base quality 

Of intelligencer ! why, every quality i'th' world 

Preferres but gaine, or commendation : 

Now, for this act, I am certaine to be rais'd, 3| 

"And men that paint weedes to the life are | 

praisM. ^^'^' 

-,ig In Qa the lines end in opinion, bathes, Spaiv, Leuca. 
320 Leuca. 1708, Lucca. 327 Exeunt . . . Cariola. A and B 
have merely Exit. C has nothing. 
333 intelligencer! B, Inteligencers ? 



Scene III] Wi)t WXltt^t^^t Ot ^dlt^ 3OI 

SCENA III. 

^Rome. A Room in the Car dinar s Palace. 

Enter\ Cardinally Ferdinand^ Mallateste, Pescara, 
Silvio, Delia. 

Cardinal. Must we turne souldier then ? 

Malateste. The emperour, 

Hearing your worth that way (ere you attained 
This reverend garment), joynes you in commis- 
sion 
With the right fortunate souldier, the Marquis 

of Pescara, 
And the famous Lanoy. 

Card. He that had the honour 5 

Of taking the French king prisoner ? 

Mai. The same. 

Here's a plot drawne for a new fortification 
At Naples. 

Ferdinand. This great Count Malateste, I 
perceive 
Hath got employment ? 

Delia. No employment, my lord : 10 

A marginall note in the muster-booke, that he is 
A voluntary lord. 

Ferd. He's no souldier ? 

Delia, He has worne gun-powder in's hollow 
tooth for the tooth-ache. 

Enter . . . Delia. Qq also name Bosola. 12 souldier f B 
puts a period after this. 1 3 -Hi? fias- AB, He ha's. 



302 tETiie Dutcties^sie of ^alf^ [act m. 

Silvio. He comes to the leaguer with a full 
intent 
To eate fresh beefe and garlicke, meanes to 

stay 
Till the sent be gon, and straight returne to 
court. 
Delia. He hath read all the late service, 
As the City Chronicle relates it, 
And keepe[s] two pewterers going, onely to 

expresse 
Battailes in modell. 

Sil. Then he'll fight by the booke. 

Delia. By the almanacke, I thinke, 
To choose good dayes, and shun the criticall. 
That's his mistris skarfe. 

Sil. Yes, he protests 

He would do much for that taffita. 

Delia. I thinke he would run away from a 
battaile 
To save it from taking prisoner. 

Sil. He is horribly afraid 

Gun-powder will spoile the perfume on't. 
Delia. I saw a Duch-man breake his pate 
once 

17 sent. C, scent. 

17-33 These lines are arranged as in BC ; it seems impossible 
to divide them into pentameters. 

19 peivterers. BC and some copies of A (Dyce), painters. 

20 he^ll. A, hel ; fight, etc. 



I 



Scene III.] ^l^t mntt\)tSi&t Ot ^Ulf^ S^S 

For calling him pot-gun ; he made his head 
Have a boare in't like a musket. 3® 

Sil. I would he had made a touch-hole to't. 
He is indeede a guarded sumpter-cloath, 
Onely for the remoove of the court. 
\_EnUr Bosola.~\ 

Pescara. Bosola arriv'd ? what should be the 
businesse ? 
Some falling out amongst the cardinalls. 35 

These factions amongst great men, they are like 
Foxes, when their heads are devided 
They carry fire in their tailes, and all the coun- 
try 
About them goes to wracke for't. 

Sil. What's that Bosola ? 

Delio. I knew him in Padua, a fantasticall 40 
scholler, like such who studdy to know how 
many knots was in Hercules club, of what 
colour Achilles beard was, or whether Hector 
were not troubled with the tooth-ach. He hath 
studdied himself halfe bleare-ei'd, to know the 45 
true semitry of Caesars nose by a shooing- 
horne ; and this he did to gaine the name of a 
speculative man. 

Pes. Marke Prince Ferdinand : 
A very salamander lives in's eye, 5® 

To mocke the eager violence of fire. 

40 This speech of Delio's is set up in Qq in lines ending with 
scholler^ in^ ivasy tooth-achy the^ this, man. 



304 tET^e 2r>utc]^es(0e of ^alf^ [act m. 

Sil. That cardlnall hath made more bad faces 
with his oppression then ever Michael Angelo 
made good ones : he lifts up's nose like a fowle 
por-pisse before a storme. 

Pes. The Lord Ferdinand laughes. 
Delio. Like a deadly cannon, 

That lightens ere it smoakes. 

Pes. These are your true pangues of death, 
The pangues of life, that strugle with great 
states-men. 
Delio. In such a deformed silence, witches 
whisper 
Their charmes. 

Card. Doth she make religion her riding 

hood 
To keepe her from the sun and tempest ? 

Ferd. That, that damnes her. Me thinkes 
her fault and beauty 
Blended together shew like leaprosie. 
The whiter, the fowler. I make it a question 
Whether her beggerly brats were ever christned. 
Card. I will instantly sollicite the state of 
Ancona 
To have them banish'd. 



52 Qq print this speech in lines ending with oppression j ones^ 
storme. 

61 Their charms. Ends preceding line in Qq. 
63 Beauty begins following line in gq. 



Scene IIII] (D^||e WUttl^tfStSit Of ^alf^ 305 

Ferd. You are for Loretto ? 

I shall not be at your ceremony : fare you well. 
Write to the Duke of Malfy, my yong nephew, 70 
She had by her first husband, and acquaint him 
With's mothers honesty. 

Bosola. I will. 

Ferd. Antonio ! 

A slave, that onely smell'd of yncke, and 

coumpters. 
And nev*r in's life look'd like a gentleman 
But in the audit time. Go, go presently, 7S 

Draw me out an hundreth and fifty of our 

horse. 
And meete me at the fort-bridge. Exeunt, 

SCENA IIII. 

[Enter^ Two Pilgrimes to the Shrine of our Lady of 

Loretto. 

7. Pilgrim. I have not scene a goodlier shrine 
then this. 
Yet I have visited many. 

2. Pil. The Cardinall of Arragon 

Is this day to resigne his cardinals hat : 
His sister duchesse likewise is arriv'd 

73 coumpters. B, counters, 74 in i life. A, in's like. 

77 fort-bridge. Vaughan xza.^ foot-bridge ^ but perhaps uninten- 
tionally. 

I shrine, B, shrive. 



3o6 tB^t mntt\)t&&t of ^alf^ [act m. 

To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 
A noble ceremony. 

7. P/7. No question They come. 

Here the ceremony of the Cardinalls enstalment, in the 
habtt of a souldier: performed in delivering up 
his crossey hat, robes, and ring, at the shrine • 
and investing him with sword, helmet, sheild, and' 
spurs. Then Antonio, the Duchesse, and their 
children, having presented themselves at the shrine, 
are (by a forme of banishment in dumbe-shew, ex- 
pressed towards them by the Cardinall and the 
state of Ancona) banished. During all which 
ceremony, this ditty is sung, to very sollemne 
musique, by divers church-men; and then exeunt. 

Armes and honors decke thy story. 

To thy fames eternall glory! 

Adverse fortune ever flie-thee, j^^ ^^ 

No disastrous fate come nigh-thee! lo thor dh- 

I alone will sing thy praises, 'lu'^D'tt 

Whom to honour, vertue raises j ,„ L /4// ' 

And thy study, that divine-is, *i 

Bent to marshiall discipline-is: \ 

Lay aside all those robes lie by thee, • ' 

Crown thy arts with armes: they'll beutifie thee. 

O worthy of worthiest name, adorn' d in this manner, 

l^ead bravely thy forces on, under war's warlike banner' 

U mayst thou prove fortunate in all marshiall courses' 

Cruide thou still, by skill, in artes and forces: 

^2 This song is printed in italic in Qq. Marginal note. In A 



Scene IIII.] ^^t Wntti^t^^t Of ^Hlf^ 3^7 

Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy 

powres} 
Triumphant conquest crowne thy head, and blessings 

powre downe showres! 

1, Pil. Here's a strange turne of state ! who 

would have thought 
So great a lady would have match'd her selfe 
Unto so meane a person ? yet the cardinall 25 

Beares himselfe much too cruell. 

2. Pil, They are banishM. 

1. Pil. But I would aske what power hath 

this state 
Of Ancona to determine of a free prince ? 

2. Pil. They are a free state, sir, and her 

brother shew'd 
How that the Pope, fore-hearing of her loose- 

nesse, 30 

Hath seaz'd into th' protection of the church 
The dukedome, which she held as dowager. 

1. Pil. But by what justice ? 

2. Pil. Sure, 1 thinke by none. 
Only her brothers instigation. 

1. Pil. What was it with such violence he 

tooke 
Of [f ] from her linger ? 

2. Pil. 'Twas her wedding-ring. 
Which he vow'd shortly he would sacrifice 
To his revenge. 

26 BC omit much. 



35 



3o8 ttri&e mntt^t&sit of ^alf^ [act m. 

/. Pil. Alasse, Antonio ! 

If that a man be thrust into a well, 
No matter who sets hand to't, his owne weight 
Will bring him sooner to th' bottome. Come,, 

let's hence. 
Fortune makes this conclusion generall, 
" All things do helpe th' unhappy man to fall. 

SCENA V. 

[^Near Loretto.~\ 

[Enter] Antonio, Duchesse, Children, Cariola, 

Servants. 
Duchess. Banish'd Ancona ? 
, Antonio. Yes, you see what powre 

Lightens in great mens breath. 

^^^^- Is all our traine 

Shrunke to this poore remainder ? 

^^^- These poore men. 

Which have got little in your service, vow 
To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings. 
Now they are fledg'd, are gon. 

■Duch. They have done wisely. 

This puts me in minde of death : physitians 

thus. 
With their hands full of money, use to give ore 
Their patients. 

Enter . . . Sew ants. Qq add: Bosola, Souldiers with Vizards. 
3 These poore. BC, 1708, These are poor. 



Scene V.] t!Pi)t U>ntt\)t0Sit Of ^alf^ 309 

j^nt. Right the fashion of the world : 

From decaide fortunes every flatterer shrinkes ; 10 
Men cease to build, where the foundation sinkes. 

Duch. I had a very strange dreame to night. 

Ant. What was't ? 

Duch. Me thought I wore my coronet of state, 
And on a sudaine all the diamonds 
Were chang'd to pearles. 

Jnt. My interpretation 15 

Is, you'll weepe shortly ; for to me the pearles 
Doe signifie your teares. 

Duch. The birds, that live i'th' field 

On the wilde benefit of nature, live 
Happier then we ; for they may choose their 

mates. 
And carroU their sweet pleasures to the spring. 20 

[^Enter Bosola with a letter.~\ 

Bosola. You are happily ore-ta'ne. 
Duch. From my brother ? 

Bos. Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand, your 
brother. 
All love and safetie. 

Duch. Thou do'st blanch mischiefe, 

Would'st make it white. See, see ; like to calme 
weather 

12 What nvas't ? BC, What is't ? ij your teares. B, you tears. 
24 like to. BC, like to the. 



3 1 o XE^t 2[>utcl)es?0e of ^alf^ [ act m. 

At sea, before a tempest, false hearts speake fairei 
To those they intend most mischiefe. \_ReaJs.'] 

A Letter. 

Send Antonio to me ; I want his head in a busines. 
A politicke equivocation ! 

He doth not want your councell, but your head; 
That is, he cannot sleepe till you be dead. 
And here's annother pitfall, that's strew'd ore 
With roses : marke it, 'tis a cunning one. 
/ stand ingaged for your husband^ for sever all debts 
at Naples : let not that trouble him ; I had rather 
have his heart then his mony. 
And I beleeve so too. 

Bos. What doe you beleeve } 

Duch. That he so much distrusts my hus- 
bands love. 
He will by no meanes beleeve his heart is with 

him 
Untill he see it. Thedivell is not cunning enough 
To circumvent us in ridles. 

Bos. Will you reject that noble and free league 
Of amitie and love which I present you ? 

Duch. Their league is like that of some poll 
tick kings, 

Onely to make themselves of strength and powre 
To be our after-ruine : tell them so. 

Bos. And what from you ? 

A Letter. In Qq begins /. 27 : ^ . . . equi-vocation ends it. 



I 



Scene V. ] t!Pl)e 2Dutcl)e00r of £palf^ 3 1 1 

Ant. Thus tell him : I will not come. 

Bos. And what of this ? 

Ant. My brothers have dispersed 

Blood-hounds abroad ; which till I heare are 

muzell'd, 
No truce, though hatch'd with nere such politick 

skill, 
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies will. 50 

ril not come at them. 

Bos. This proclaimes your breeding. 

Every small thing drawes a base mind to feare, 
As the adamant drawes yron. Fare you well, sir ; 
You shall shortly heare from's. Exit. 

Duch. I suspect some ambush : 

I Therefore by all my love, I doe conjure you 55 
I To take your eldest sonne, and flye towards 
Millaine. 
Let us not venture all this poore remainder 
\ In one unlucky bottom. 

' Ant. You councell safely. 

! Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part, 
Heaven hath a hand in't : but no otherwise 60 

Then as some curious artist takes in sunder 
I A clocke, or watch, when it is out of frame, 
' To bring 't in better order. 

59 part. A has no punctuation after part. Dyce, HazHtt, 
Vaughan, and Thayer lose the whole force of the passage by their 
punctuation : — 

Best of my life, farewell, since we must part : 

Heaven hath a hand in't: 



3 1 2 tETlie SDutcljesisfe of ^alf^ [ act m. 

Duch. I know not which is best, 
To see you dead, or part with you. Farewell, 

boy ; ( 

Thou art happy, that thou hast not understanding 
To know thy misery : for all our wit 
And reading brings us to a truer sence J 

Of sorrow. In the eternall church, sir, | 

I doe hope we shall not part thus. 

Ant. Oh, be of comfort; 7 

Make patience a noble fortitude. 
And thinke not how unkindly we are us'de : 
" Man, like to cassia, is prov'd best, being 
bruiz'd. 

Duch. Must I, like to a slave-borne Russian, 
Account it praise to suffer tyranny ? 7 

And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is in't ! 
I have scene my litle boy oft scourge his top. 
And compar'd my selfe to't : naught made me ere 
Go right but heavens scourge-sticke. 

Ant. Do not weepe 

Heaven fashion'd us of nothing : and we strive 
To bring our selves to nothing. Farewell Cariola 
And thy sweet armefull. If I doe never see thee 

more. 
Be a good mother to your litle ones. 
And save them from the tiger : fare you well 

74 Russian. BC, 1 708, Ruffian. 

79 Go right. In Qq at end of preceding line. 



I 



Scene V. ] tD^jje Wntt\)tiifsit of ^alf^ 3 1 3 

Duch. Let me looke upon you once more j for 
that speech 85 

Came from a dying father : your kisse is colder 
Then that I have seene an holy anchorite 
Give to a dead mans skull. 

Ant, My heart is turnde to a heavy lumpe of 
lead. 
With which I sound my danger : fare you well. 9° 

Exit, 
Duch. My laurell is all withered. 
Cariola. Looke, madam, what a troope of 
armed men 
Make toward us. 

Enter Bosola with a Guard \_disguised.'\ 

Duch, O, they are very welcome : 

When Fortunes wheele is over-charg'd with 

princes. 
The waight makes it move swift. I would have 

my ruine 95 

Be sudden. I am your adventure, am I not ? 
Bos. You are : you must see your husband no 

more. 
Duch. What divell art thou, that counterfeits 
heavens thunder ? 

Exit. Dyce gives, more accurately: Exeunt Antonio and his son. 
Enter . . . Guard. Dyce puts Bosola' s entrance after the words 
Be sudden. 

94 princes. Mr, Daniel suggests poises. 



314 ®lie Wntt^t&^t of ^alf^ [act m. 

Bos. Is that terrible ? I would have you tell 
me whether 
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds 
Out of the cornej or that which doth allure 

them 
To the nets ? you have hearkned to the last too 
much. 
Buch. O misery ! like to a rusty ore-charg'd 
cannon, 
Shall I never flye in peeces ? Come : to what 
prison ? 
Bos, To none. 
Duch. Whether, then ? 
Bos. To your pallace. ' 

Buch. I have heard 105 

That Charons boate serves to convay all ore 
The dismall lake, but brings none backe againe. 
Bos. Your brothers meane you safety, and ij 
pitie. ' 

Buch. Pitie? 

With such a pitie men preserve alive 
Pheasants and quailes when they are not fat 

enough „, 

To be eaten. 

99 ivhether. Begins following line in Qq. 

103 ore-charg d. A, ore-char'd. 

105 I ha-ve heard. Begins next line in Qq. 

1 06 all ore. Begins next line in Qq. 
108 Pitie f Begins next line in Qq. 



Scene V. ] ^\)t SDUtCljefiftfe Of ^Elf^ 3 1 5 

Bos. These are your children ? 

Duch, Yes. 

Bos. Can they pratle ? 

Duch. No; 
But I intend, since they were borne accurs'd, 
Cursses shall be their first language. 

Bos, Fye^ Madam ! 

Forget this base, low-fellow. 

Duch. Were I a man, 115 

rU'd beat that counterfeit face into thy other. 

Bos. One of no birth. 

Duch. Say that he was borne meane, — 

Man is most happy when's owne actions 
Be arguments and examples of his vertue. 

Bos. A barren, beggerly vertue. 120 

Duch. I pre-thee who is greatest, can you 
tell ? 
Sad tales befit my woe : I'll tell you one. 
A salmon, as she swam unto the sea. 
Met with a dog-fish ; who encounters her 
With this rough language : " Why art thou so 

bold 125 

" To mixe thy selfe with our high state of 

floods, 
" Being no eminent courtier, but one 
" That for the calmest and fresh time o'th* 

yeere 
" Do'st live in shallow rivers, rank'st thy selfe 



3 1 6 tETi^e SDutclje^fife of ^alf^ [act m. 

*' With silly smylts, and shrympes ? and darest 

thou 13 

" Passe by our dog-ship, without reverence ? " 
" O " (quoth the salmon) " sister, be at peace : 
" Thanke Jupiter, we both have pass'd the net. 
" Our value never can be truely knowne, 
"Till in the fishers basket we be showne ; 133 

" I'th' market then my price may be the higher, 
" Even when I am neerest to the cooke and fire." 
So, to great men, the morrall may be stretched. 
" Men oft are valued high when th' are most 

wretch'd. 
But come, whether you please: I am armM 

'gainst misery, 14A 

Bent to all swaies of the oppressors will. 'I 

Theris no deepe valley but neere some great hill. 

Ex\eunt.'\ 

138 To make the rhyme, stretched {K^') should be stretch* d, 
as C has it ; or -wretch'd (Qq) should be wretched (1708). The 
latter reading seems preferable ; but see iv, i, 86. 

140 "whether. BC, whither. 



ACTUS nil. ScENA. I. 

\_Amalji. A Room in the Duchess* s Palace. '\ 
^Enter Ferdi?iand and Bosola. ] 

Ferdinand. How doth our sister dutchesse 
beare her selfe 
In her imprisonment ? 

Bosola. Nobly : I'll describe her : 

She's sad, as one long us'd to't ; and she seemes 
Rather to welcome the end of misery- 
Then shun it ; a behaviour so noble, 
As gives a majestic to adversitie : 
You may discerne the shape of lovelinesse 
More perfect in her teares then in her smiles ; 
She will muse foure houres together; and her 

silence, 
Me thinkcs, expresseth more then if she spake. 

Ferd. Her mellancholly seemes to be fortifide 
With a strange disdaine. 

Bos. 'Tis so : and this restraint 

(Like English mastifFes, that grow feirce with 

tying) 
Makes her too passionately apprehend 
Those pleasures she's kept from. 

Enter . . . Bosola. Qq, Ferdinand, Bosola, Dutchesse, Cariola, 
Servants. 3 long. Omitted in BC 9 foure. Collier suggests 
{^Supp. Notes I, 276) and Hazlitt, Vaughan read : for. 

15 ske^s. J^uery : that she's or she is. 



3i8 ®t)e SDutcljesisfe of ^alf^ [acthh. 

Ferd, Curse upon her ! i 

I will no longer study in the booke 
Of anothers heart. Informe her what I told you. ji 

Exit. 
\^Enter Duchess and Attendants. "^ 

Bos. All comfort to your grace ! 

Duchess. I will have none. 

Tray-thee, why do'st thou wrap thy poysond pilles 
In gold and sugar ? % 

Bos. Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand, j 
Is come to visite you ; and sends you word, ' 

'Cause once he rashly made a solemne vowe ' 

Never to see you more, he comes i'th' night; 
And prayes you gently neither torch nor taper % 
Shine in your chamber : he will kisse your hand, 
And reconcile himselfe ; but, for his vowe. 
He dares not see you. 

Duch. At his pleasure. 

Take hence the lights : he's come. 

[^Exeunt Attendants with lights. '\ 
\Enter Ferdinand. '\ 

Ferd. Where are you ? 

Duch. Here sir. 

Ferd. This darkenes suites you well. 

Duch. I would aske you pardon. 

Ferd. You have it ; 
For I account it the honorabl'st revenge, 

30 you pardon. 1 708, your pardon. 



Scene I] tCj^e 2E>utc^e00e of ^alf^ 3 1 9 

Where I may kill, to pardon. Where are your 

cubbs ? 
Duch. Whom? 

Ferd. Call them your children ; 

For though our nationall law distinguish bastards 35 
From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature 
Makes them all equall. 

Duch. Doe you visit me for this? 

You violate a sacrament o'th' church 
Shall make you howle in hell for't 

Ferd. It had bin well. 

Could you have liv'd thus alwayes : for indeed 40 
You were too much i'th' light. But no more : 

Gives her a dead mans hand. 
I come to scale my peace with you: here's a hand. 
To which you have vow'd much love : the ring 

upon't 
You gave. 

Duch. I affectionately kisse it. 

Ferd. Tray doe : and bury the print of it in 
your heart. 45 

I will leave this ring with you for a love-token j 
And the hand, as sure as the ring : and doe not 

doubt 
But you shall have the heart too : when you need 

a friend. 
Send it to him that owMe it : you shall see 
Whether he can ayd you. 



320 ®l^e 2Dutct)e00e of ^alfp [act mi. 

Duch. You are very cold. 

I feare you are not well after your travell — 
Hah ! lights ! oh horrible ! 

Ferd. Let her have lights enough. Exit. 
Duch. What witch-craft doth he practise, that 
he hath left 
A dead-mans hand here ? 

Here is discover^ dy behind a tr avers, the 
artijiciall figures of Antonio and his chil- 
dren, appearing as if they were dead. 
Bos. Looke you : here's the peece from which 
'twas ta'ne. 
He doth present you this sad spectacle, 
That now you know directly they are dead, 
Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve 
For that which cannot be recovered. 

Duch. There is not betweene heaven and 
earth one wish 
I stay for after this : it wastes me more 
Then were't my picture, fashion'd out of 

wax, 
Stucke with a magicall needle, and then buried 
In some fowle dung-hill : and yond's an excel- 
lent property. 
For a tyrant, which I would account mercy. 
Bos. What's that ? 

behind a trovers. BC, (being a tra vers). 
60 earth. BC, the earth. 



Scene I] tE^^t V^Utt^t^S^t Of ^alft 3 2 1 

Duch. If they would bind me to that liveles 
truncke, 
And let me freeze to death. 

Bos. Come, you must live. 

Duch. That's the greatest torture soules feele 
in hell, 
In hell : that they must live, and cannot die. 
Portia, I'll new kindle thy coales againe, 7© 

And revive the rare and almost dead example 
Of a loving wife. 

Bos. O fye ! despaire ? remember 

You are a Christian. 

Duch. The church enjoynes fasting : 

I'll starve my selfe to death. 

Bos. Leave this vaine sorrow ; 

Things being at the worst begin to mend : 75 

The bee when he hath shot his sting into your 

hand. 
May then play with your eye-lyd. 

Duch. Good comfortable fellow, 

Perswade a wretch that's broke upon the wheele 
To have all his bones new set : entreate him live. 
To be executed againe. Who must despatch 

me ? 80 

I account this world a tedious theatre. 
For I doe play a part in't 'gainst my will. 

Bos. Come, be of comfort j I will save your 
life. 



322 tlTije 2Dtttctie00e of ^alfp [act mi. 

Duch, Indeed, I have not leysure to tend so 

small a busines. 
Bos. Now, by my life, I pitty you. 
Duch, Thou art a foole then, 

To wast thy pitty on a thing so wretch'd 
As cannot pitty it [self]: I am full of daggers : 
PufFe, let me blow these vipers from me. 

[Enter Servant.'] | 

What are you ? "^ 

Servant. One that wishes you long life. 

Duch. I would thou wert hang'd for the hor- 
rible curse ( 
Thou hast given me : J shall shortly grow one 

[Exit Servant,'] 
Of the miracles of pitty. I'll goe pray — no, 
I'll goe curse ! 

Bos. Oh fye ! 

Duch. I could curse the starres — 

Bos. Oh fearefull ! 

Duch. And those three smyling seasons of < 
the yeere j 

Into a Russian winter : nay the world 5 

To its first chaos ! 

Bos. Looke you, the starres shine still. „ 

Duch. Oh, but you must remember, my curse | 

hath a great way to goe. ;* 

86 ivretch^d. 1 708, wretched. 

87 it self. Qq, it ; 1708, it self. 2"^''y ' I cannot pitty it. 
Exit Servant. This seems to be the best point for the serv- 
ant's exit, which no preceding edition or editor provides. 



Scene I.] tETj^e SE>utcl)e00e of ^alf^ 323 

Plagues, that make lanes through largest fami- 
lies, 
Consume them ! 

Bos. Fye, lady ! 

Duch, Let them, like tyrants. 

Never be remembered but for the ill they have 

done : 100 

Let all the zealous prayers of mortefied 
Church-men forget them ! 

Bos. O uncharitable ! 

Duch. Let heaven, a little while, cease crown- 
ing martirs. 
To punish them ! 

Goe, howle them this : and say I long to bleed; 105 
It is some mercy, when men kill with speed. 

Exit. 
[Enter Ferdinand.'] 
Ferdinand. Excellent ; as I would wish : she's 
plaguM in art. 
These presentations are but fram'd in wax 
By the curious master in that qualitie, 
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them no 

For true substantiall bodies. 

Bos. Why doe you doe this ? 

Ferd. To bring her to despaire. 
Bos. Taith, end here, 

jAnd go no farther in your cruelty. 
Send her a penetentiall garment to put on 

104 To . . . them. Begins following line in Qq. 



324 Wi^t 2[>utcl)e00e of £palf^ [act mi. 

Next to her delicate skinne, and furnish her i] 
With beades and prayer bookes. 

Ferd. Damne her, that body of hers. 

While that my blood ran pure in't, was more 

worth 
Then that which thou wouldst comfort, calFd a 

soule. 
I will send her masques of common curtizans, 
Have her meate serv'd up by baudes and ruffians, i: 
And 'cause she'll needes be mad, I am resolv'd 
To remove forth the common hospitall 
All the mad-folke, and place them neere her 

lodging : 
There let them practice together, sing, and 

daunce. 
And act their gambols to the full o'th' moone : u 
If she can sleepe the better for it, let her. 
Your worke is almost ended. 

Bos. Must I see her againe ? 

Ferd. Yes. 

Bos. Never. 

Ferd. You must. 

Bos. Never in mine owne shape ; 

That's forfeited, by my intelligence. 
And this last cruel! lie : when you send me next,i: 
The businesse shalbe comfort. 

Ferd. Very likely ; 

Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio 



Scene II] ^^t WntC\)t&&t Of ©alft 325 

Lurkes about Millaine ; thou shalt shortly thither, 

To feede a fire as great as my revenge. 

Which nev'r will slacke till it have spent his 135 

fuell : 
" Intemperate agues make physitians cruell. 

Exeunt. 

SCENA II. 

\_Amalfi. A Room in the Duchess* s Palace. '\ 
\_Enter Duchess and Carlo la. "^ 

Duchess. What hideous noyse was that ? 

Cartola. 'Tis the wild consort 

Of mad-men, lady, which your tyrant brother 
Hath plac'd about your lodging. This tyranny, 
I thinke, was never practis'd till this howre. 

Duch. Indeed I thanke him: nothing but 

noyce and folly 5 

Can keepe me in my right wits ; whereas reason 
And silence make me starke mad. Sit downe; 
Discourse to me some dismall tragedy. 

Cari. O 'twill encrease your mellancholly. 

Duch, Thou art deceived : 

To heare of greater griefe would lessen mine. 10 
This is a prison ? 

Cari. Yes, but you shall live 

To shake this durance off. 

135 hh fuell. 1708, it's fuel. 

Enter . . . Cartola. Qq, Duchesse, Cariola, Servant, Mad-men, 
Bosola, Executioners, Ferdinand. 



326 Wf^t 2r>utc|)e00e of ^alf^ [act mi. 

Duch. Thou art a foole : 

The robin red-brest and the nightingale 
Never live long in cages. 

Cart, Pray drie your eyes. 

What thinke you of, madam ? 

Duch. Of nothing : 

When I muse thus, I sleepe. 

Cart, Like a mad-man, with your eyes open ? 
Duch, Do'st thou thinke we shall know one 
an other. 
In th' other world ? 

Cari, Yes, out of question. 

Duch. O that it were possible we might 
But hold some two dayes conference with the 

dead! 
From them I should learne somewhat, I am 

sure 
I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle : 
I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow. 
Th' heaven ore my head seemes made of molton 

brasse. 
The earth of flaming sulphure, yet I am not 

mad. 
I am acquainted with sad misery. 
As the tan'd galley-slave is with his oare; 
Necessity makes me suffer constantly. 
And custome makes it easie. Who do I looke 
like now ? 



Scene II. ] ^\)t W>Utt\)tf$^t Of ^alf^ 3^7 

Cari. Like to your picture in the gallery, 
A deale of life in shew, but none in practise : 
Or rather like some reverend monument 
Whose ruines are even pittied. 

Duch. Very proper : 

And Fortune seemes onely to have her eie-sight, 35 
To behold my tragedy. How now. 
What noyce is that ? 

\^Enter Servant."^ 
Servant. I am come to tell you, 

Your brother hath entended you some sport. 
A great physitian, when the Pope was sicke 
Of a deepe mellancholly, presented him 40 

With severall sorts of mad-men, which wilde 

object 
(Being full of change and sport) forc'd him to 

laugh, 
And so th' impost-hume broke : the selfe same 

cure 
The duke intends on you. 

Duch. Let them come in. 

Serv. There's a mad lawyer ; and a secular 

priest ; 45 

A doctor that hath forfeited his wits 
Byjealousie; an astrologian. 
That in his workes sayd such a day o'th' moneth 
Should be the day of doome, and, fayling oPt, 

44 Let them. BC, Let me. 1708, Let 'em. 



328 ®lie Wntt\)t&&t of ^alf^ [act mi. 

Ran mad ; an English taylor, crais'd i'th' braine < 
With the studdy of new fashion ; a gentleman 

usher 
Quite beside himselfe with care to keepe in minde 
The number of his ladies salutations, 
Or how do you, she employ'd him in each morn- 
ing ; 
A farmer too, an excellent knave in graine, 
Mad, 'cause he was hindred transportation; 
And let one broaker, that's mad, loose to these, 
Youl'd thinke the divell were among them. 
Duch. Sit, Cariola. Let them loose when you 
please. 
For I am chain'd to endure all your tyranny. 
\^Enter Madmen. ~\ 
Here, by a Mad-man, this song is sung to a dismall 
kind of musique, 

O let us howle some heavy note. 

Some deadly-dogged howle, 
Sounding as from the threatning throat 

Of beastes and fatall fowle ! 
As ravens, schrich-owles, bulls, and beares. 

We'll bell, and bawle our parts, 
Till yerk-some noyce have cloy'd your eares. 

And corasivM your hearts. 

^1 faihion. BC, fashions. 54 hotu do you. 1708, how d'ye's. 

Enter Madmen, Dyce. 1708, perhaps correctly, places entrance 
before the descriptive speech. 61 This song is printed in ital. in 
Qq. hoivle. C, hold. 66 bell. A, bill. 67 yerk-some. 1 708, 
irk some. 68 corasiv'd. 1708, corrosiv'd. 



Scene II] ®t|e Wntt\\t$&t Of ^alf^ 3^9 

At last when as our quire wants breath, 

Our bodies being blest, 70 

We'll sing like swans, to welcome death. 
And die in love and rest. 

1. Madman. Doomes-day not come yet ? 
Pll draw it neerer by a perspective, or make a 
glasse that shall set all the world on fire upon 75 
an instant. I cannot sleepe, my pillow is stufF't 
with a littour of porcupines. 

2. Mad. Hell is a meere glasse-house, where 
the divells are continually blowing up womens 
soules on hollow yrons, and the fire never goes 80 
out. 

J. Mad. I will lie with every woman in my 
parish the tenth night • I will tithe them over, 
like hay-cockes. 

^. Mad. Shall my pothecary out-go me, be- 85 
cause I am a cuck-old ? I have found out his 
roguery : he makes allom of his wives urin, and 
sells it to Puritaines, that have sore throates with 
over-strayning. 

1. Mad. I have skill in harroldry. 9° 

2. Mad. Hast ? 

I. Mad. You do give for your creast a wood- 
cockes head, with the braines pickt out on't ; 
you are a very ancient gentleman. 

J. Mad. Greeke is turn'd Turke ; we are 95 
onely to be sav'd by the Helvetian translation. 

77 littour. C, litter. 79 ivomens. BC, mens. 



330 W\^t ^Xlttf^t&Sit of ^nlt^ [Act mi. 

7. Afad. Come on sir, I will lay the law to 
you. 

2. Mad, Oh, rather lay a corazive ; the law 
will eate to the bone. ich 

J. Mad. He that drinkes but to satisfie na- 
ture is damn'd. 

/}.. Mad. If I had my glasse here, I would 
shew a sight should make all the women here 
call me mad doctor. loc 

1. Mad. What's he, a rope-maker ? 

2. Mad. No, no, no, a snufling knave, that 
while he shewes the tombes, will have his hand 
in a wenches placket. 

J. Mad. Woe to the caroach that brought ii 
home my wife from the masque at three a clocke 
in the morning ! it had a large feather-bed in it. 
^. Mad. I have paired the divells nayles forty 
times, roasted them in ravens egges, and cur'd 
agues with them. ii 

J. Mad. Get me three hundred milch bats, 
to make possets to procure sleepe. 

^. Mad. All the colledge may throw their 
caps at me : I have made a soape-boyler cos- 
tive ; it was my masterpeece. 12 

Here the daunce consisting of 8 Mad-men^ 
with musicke answerable thereunto ; after 
which y Bo so la (^like an old man') enters. 

99 corazive. 1 708 , corrosive. Here . , . enters, A. 1708 has: 
like an Old Bell-man, for /ike an old man. 



Scene II.] tET^ie 2Dutcl^es?fife of £palf^ 331 

Duch. Is he mad to[o] ? 

Serv, 'Pray question him : Til leave you. 

[^Exeunt Serva7ii and Madmen. ~\ 

Bosola. I am come to make thy tombe. 

Duch. Hah, my tombe ? 

Thou speak'st as if I lay upon my death 

bed, 
Gasping for breath : do'st thou perceive me 
sicke ? 

Bos, Yes, and the more dangerously, since 

thy sicknesse is insensible. 125 

Duch. Thou art not mad, sure, do'st know 
me ? 

Bos. Yes. 

Duch. Who am I ? 

Bos. Thou art a box of worme-seede, at best, 
but a salvatory of greene mummey. What's this 
flesh ? a little cruded milke, phantasticall pufFe- 
paste. Our bodies are weaker then those paper 130 
prisons boyes use to keepe flies in : more con- 
temptible ; since ours is to preserve earth- 
wormes. Didst thou ever see a larke in a cage ? 
Such is the soule in the body : this world is like 
her little turfe of grasse, and the heaven ore our 135 
heades, like her looking glasse, onely gives us a 
miserable knowledge of the small compasse of 
our prison. 

129 cruded. BC, curded. 133 ever. BC, never. 



332 tE^\)t 2E>utct)efif0e of ^alf^ [act mi. 

Duch. Am not I thy duchesse ? 

Bos. Thou art some great woman, sure, fori 
riot begins to sit on thy fore-head (clad in gray 
haires) twenty yeares sooner then on a merry 
milke maydes. Thou sleep'st worse then if a 
mouse should be forc'd to take up her lodging 
in a cats eare : a little infant, that breedes it's i^k 
teeth, should it lie with thee, would crie out, as 
if thou wert the more unquiet bed-fellow. 

Duch. I am Duchesse of Malfy still. 

Bos. That makes thy sleepes so broken : 
" Glories, like glowe-wormes, a farre off shine 

bright, IS 

But look'd to neere, have neither heate nor light. 

Duch. Thou art very plaine. 

Bos. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the 
living. 
I am a tombe-maker. 

Duch. And thou com'st to make my tombe ?iSf 

Bos. Yes. 

Duch. Let me be a little merry. 
Of what stufFe wilt thou make it ? 

Bos. Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion ? 

Duch. Why, do we grow phantasticall in our 
death-bed ? i6. 

Do we affect fashion in the grave ? 

144 Aer. BC, his. 149 sleepes. C, 1708, sleep. 

151 to neere. B, too neere. 



Scene II.] ^1)0 WUttl^tUSt Of ^M^ 333 

Bos. Most ambitiously. Princes images on 
their tombes 
Do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray 
Up to heaven : but with their hands under their 

cheekes. 
As if they died of the tooth-ache; they are not 

carved 165 

With their eies fix'd upon the starres ; but as 
Their mindes were wholy bent upon the world, 
The selfe-same way they seeme to turne their 
faces. 

Duch. Let me know fully therefore the effect 
Of this thy dismall preparation, 170 

This talke, fit for a charnell. 

Bos. Now,' I shall : 

\^Enter Executioners, zuith'\ A coffin, cords, and a bell. 
Here is a present from your princely brothers, 
And may it arrive wel-come, for it brings 
Last benefit, last sorrow. 

Duch. Let me see it ; 

I have so much obedience in my blood, 175 

I wish it in ther veines to do them good. 

Bos. This is your last presence chamber. 

Cari. O my sweete lady ! 

Duch. Peace, it affrights not me. 

Bos. I am the common bell-man. 
That usually is sent to condemn'd persons 180 

The night before they suffer. 

167 Their. Ends preceding line in Qq. 



334 W^t 2Dutct)e0Sfe of ^alf^ [act mi. 

Duch. Even now 

Thou said'st thou wast a tombe-maker ? 

Bos. 'Twas to bring you 

By degrees to mortification. Listen. 

\_Rings his bell.'\ 

Hearke, now every thing is still, 

The schritch-owle and the whistler shrill ig 

Call upon our dame aloud, 

And bid her quickly don her shrowd. ^ 

Much you had of land and rent, i| 

Your length in clay's now competent. " 

A long war disturb' d your minde, ,0, 

Here your perfect peace is sign'd. 

Of what is't fooles make such vaine keeping ? 

Sin their conception, their birth, weeping, 

Their life, a generall mist of error. 

Their death, a hideous storme of terror. ,« 

Strew your haire with powders sweete, 

D'on cleane linnen, bath your feete, 

And (the foule feend more to checke) 

A crucifixe let blesse your necke. 

'Tis now full tide, 'tweene night and day ; 2c; 

End your groane, and come away. 

Cari. Hence villaines, tyrants, murderers ! 

alas ! 
What will you do with my lady t call for helpe ! 
Duch. To whom, to our next neighbours t 

they are mad-folkes. 

182 Thou said" St. Ends preceding line in J^q. Rings. . . bell. 1708. 
184-201 This song is in italics in Qq. 
195 terror. A, 1708, terror} BC, error. 

I' 



Scene II.] ^i^t 'S^Utt^tH&t Ot ^Ult^ 335 

Bos. Remoove that noyse. 

Duch. Farewell Cariola.205 

In my last will I have not much to give : 
A many hungry guests have fed upon me ; 
Thine will be a poore reversion. 

Cart. I will die with her. 

Duch. I pray-thee looke thou giv'st my little 
boy 
Some sirrop for his cold, and let the girle 210 

[Carlo la is forced off.'\ 
Say her prayers ere she sleepe. Now, what you 

please : 
What death ? 

Bos. Strangling : here are your executioners. 

Duch. I forgive them : 
The apoplexie, cathar, or cough o'th' loongs, 
Would do as much as they do. 215 

Bos. Doth not death fright you ? 

Duch. Who would be afraid on't, 

Knowing to meete such excellent company 
In th' other world ? 

Bos. Yet, me thinkes. 

The manner of your death should much afflict 

you. 
This cord should terrifie you ? 

Duch. Not a whit : azo 

Cariola . . . off. 1708. 

214 cathar. 1708, catarrh, loongs. B, lungs. 

220 Not a ivhit. 1708, Not at all. 



33^ ariie 2Dutctie00e of ^alf^ [actiih. 

What would it pleasure me, to have my throate 

cut 
With diamonds ? or to be smothered 
With cassia ? or to be shot to death with pearles ? 
I know death hath ten thousand severall doores 
For men to take their exits : and 'tis found 
They go on such strange geometricall hinges, 
You may open them both wayes : any way, for 

heaven sake. 
So I were out of your whispering. Tell my 

brothers 
That I perceive death, now I am well a wake. 
Best guift is they can give or I can take. 
I would faine put off my last womans-fault, 
rrd not be tedious to you. 

Executioner. We are ready. 

Duch. Dispose my breath how please you ; 
but my body 
Bestow upon my women, will you ? 

Exec. Yes. 

Duch. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able 
strength aj 

Must pull downe heaven upon me : 
Yet stay, heaven gates are not so highly arch'd 
As princes pallaces ; they that enter there 

[She kfieels.~\ 
Must go upon their knees. Come, violent death. 
Serve for mandragora, to make me sleepe ! ^^ 

238 princes. BC, 1708, princely. 






Scene II. ] XE^t V^XXtt^t^&t Of ^Hlf^ 337 

Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, 
They then may feede in quiet. They strangle her. 

Bos. Where's the waiting woman ? 
Fetch her : some other strangle the children. 

\_Enter Cariola.~\ 
Looke you, there sleepes your mistris. 

Cari. Oh you are damnM245 

Perpetually for this ! My turne is next, — 
Is't not so ordered ? 

Bos. Yes, and I am glad 

You are so well prepared for't. 

Cari. You are deceived, sir, 

I am not prepared for't, I will not die ; 
I will first come to my answere ; and know 250 
How I have offended. 

Bos. Come, despatch her : 

You kept her counsell, now you shall keepe ours. 

Cari. I will not die, I must not ; I am con- 
tracted 
To a young gentle-man. 

Exec. Here's your wedding ring. 

Cari. Let me but speake with the duke. I'll 
discover 255 

Treason to his person. 

Enter Cariola. 1 708 ; Dyce, Cariola and children are brought 
in by the Executioners ; ivho presently strangle the children. It is 
not indicated whether or not the children are strangled in the sight 
of the spectators. A stage direction on the point must be guess- 
work. Cf. note. 245 you are. BC, thou art. 247 Tesy and 
I. BC, Yes, I. 250 ivill first come. BC, will come. 



338 turtle mntt\)tsiit of ^alf^ [act mi. 

Bos. Delayes : throttle her. 

Exec. She bites and scratches. 

Cari. If you kill me now, 

I am damn'd : I have not bin at confession 
This two yeeres. 

Bos. When ? 

Cari. I am quicke with child. 

Bos. Why then, 

Your credit's sav'd : beare her in toth' next 

roome. \^T/iey strangle Cariola.'^ at 

Let this lie still. \_CarioIa's body is borne out.'\ 

\Enter Ferdinand.^ I 

Ferdinand. Is she dead ? | 

Bos. Shee is what ' 

You'll'd have her. But here begin your pitty : 

Shezves the children strangled. 
Alas, how have these offended ? 

Ferd. The death 

Of young wolffes is never to be pittied. 

Bos. Fix your eye here. 

Ferd. Constantly. I 

Bos. Doe you not weepe?2d 

Other sinnes onely speake ; murther shreikes out : 
The element of water moistens the earth. 
But blood flies upwards, and bedewes the hea- 
vens, i 



256 throttle her. A, throttle-her, 
259 This two yeeres. Dyce, these. 



Scene II.] ^^t 'SI>Vitti^t&&t Ot ^d\t^ 339 

Ferd. Cover her face. Mine eyes dazell : 
she di'd yong. 

Bos. I thinke not so : her infelicitie 270 

Seem'd to have yeeres too many. 

Ferd. She and I were twinnes : 
And should I die this instant, I had liv'd 
Her time to a mynute. 

Bos. It seemes she was borne first : 

You have bloodely approved the auncient truth, 275 
That kindred commonly doe worse agree 
Then remote strangers. 

Ferd. Let me see her face again e ; 

Why didst thou not pitty her ? what an excellent 
Honest man might'st thou have bin. 
If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary ! 280 
Or, bold in a good cause, oppos'd thy selfe 
With thy advanced sword above thy head, 
Betweene her innocence and my revenge ! 
I bad thee, when I was distracted of my wits, 
Goe kill my dearest friend, and thou hast don't. 285 
For let me but examine well the cause ; 
What was the meanenes of her match to me ? 
Onely I must confesse, I had a hope. 
Had she continu'd widow, to have gain'd 
An infinite masse of treasure by her death : 290 
And that was the mayne cause ; her marriage, 

283 innocence. BC, innocency. 291 that . . . cause. B, what 
. . . cause 5 C, 1708, what . . . cause ? 



340 Wi)t WVLttf^t^Sit of £Palf^ [Act IIII. 

That drew a streame of gall quite through my 

heart. 
For thee (as we observe in tragedies 
That a good actor many times is curss'd 
For playing a villaines part), I hate thee for't ; 29 
And, for my sake, say thou hast done much ill 
well. 

Bos. Let me quicken your memory ; for I per- 
ceive 
You are falling into ingratitude : I challenge 
The reward due to my service. 

Ferd. ril tell thee 

What I'll give thee. 

Bos. Doe. 

Ferd. I'll give thee a pardon 300 

For this murther. 

Bos. Hah ! 

Ferti. Yes : and 'tis 

The largest bounty I can studie to doe thee. 
By what authority did'st thou execute 
This bloody sentence ? 

Bos. By yours. 

Ferd. Mine ? was I her judge ? 305 

Did any ceremoniall forme of law 
Doombe her to not-being ? did a compleat jury 
Deliver her conviction up i'th' court ? 



298 ingratitude. C, gratitude. 
304 sentence ? BC, 1 708, service ? 



Scene II.] tE^^f SDutcljesf^e of ^alf^ 34 1 

Where shalt thou find this judgement registerd 
Unlesse in hell? See: like a bloody foole 310 

Th'hast forfeyted thy life, and thou shalt die 
for't. 

Bos. The office of justice is perverted quite 
When one thiefe hangs another. Who shall dare 
To reveale this ? 

Ferd. Oh, I'll tell thee : 

The wolfe shall finde her grave, and scrape it 

up: 315 

Not to devoure the corpes, but to discover 
The horrid murther. 

Bos. You, not I, shall quake for't. 

Ferd. Leave me. 

Bos. I will first receive my pention. 

Ferd. You are a villaine. 

Bos. When your ingratitude 

Is judge, I am so. 

Ferd. O horror, 320 

That not the feare of him which bindes the 

divels 
Can prescribe man obedience ! 
Never looke upon me more. 

Bos. Why fare thee well. 

Your brother and your selfe are worthy men ; 
You have a paire of hearts are hollow graves, 325 
Rotten, and rotting others : and your vengeance, 

313 When one thiefe. C, When on these. 



342 tETlfte 2r>utcl)e0sfe of ^alf^ [acthh. 

Like two chain'd-bullets, still goes arme in arme : 
You may be brothers : for treason, like the 

plague, 
Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one 
That long hath ta'ne a sweet and golden dreame : 330 
I am angry with my selfe now that I wake. 
Ferd. Get thee into some unknowne part o' 

th' world, 
That I may never see thee. 

Bos. Let me know 

Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, 
I serv'd your tyranny, and rather strove 335 

To satisfie your selfe then all the world ; 
And though I loath'd the evill, yet I lov'd 
You that did councell it : and rather sought 
To appeare a true servant then an honest man. 

Ferd. I'll goe hunt the badger by owle-light : 34°' 
*Tis a deed of darkenesse. Exit, 

Bos. He's much distracted. Off my painted 

honour ! 
While with vaine hopes our faculties we tyre. 
We seeme to sweate in yce and freeze in fire. 
What would I doe, were this to doe againe ? 345 
I would not change my peace of conscience 
For all the wealth of Europe. She stirres ; 

here's life: 
Returne, faire soule, from darkenes, and lead 

mine 



Scene II.] ^\)t WUtt^tHSit Of ^alf^ 343 

Out of this sencible hell : she's warme, she 

breathes : 
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart, 35° 

To store them with fresh colour ! Who's there ? 
Some cordiall drinke ! Alas ! I dare not call : 
So pitty would destroy pitty. Her eye opes, 
And heaven in it seemes to ope, that late was 

shut, 
To take me up to mercy. 355 

Duch. Antonio ! 

Bos. Yes madam, he is living ; 

The dead bodies you saw were but faign'd 

statues ; 
He's reconcil'd to your brothers : the Pope hath 

wrought 
The attonement. 

Duch. Mercy ! She dies. 

Bos. Oh, she's gone againe ! there the cords 

of life broake. 360 

O sacred innocence, that sweetely sleepes 
On turtles feathers, whil'st a guilty conscience 
Is a blacke register, wherein is writ 
All our good deedes and bad, a perspective 
That showes us hell ! That we cannot be suf- 

fer'd 365 

To doe good when we have a mind to it ! 
This is manly sorrow : 

353 opes. C, 1708, opens. 



344 ®^e 2E>tttC^e0fi^e of ^alf^ [Act mi. 

These teares, I am very certaine, never grew 

In my mothers milke. My estate is suncke 

Below the degree of feare : where were 37^ 

These penitent fountaines while she was living ? 1 

Oh, they were frozen up ! Here is a sight | 

As direfull to my soule as is the sword 

Unto a wretch hath slaine his father. 

Come, I'll beare thee hence, 375 

And execute thy last will ; that's deliver 

Thy body to the reverend dispose 

Of some good women : that the cruell tyrant 

Shall not denie me. Then I'll poast to Millaine, 

Where somewhat I will speedily enact 380^ 

Worth my dejection. Exit [with the body."] 

369 A possible arrangement is to end these lines with beloiv^ 
fountaines^ up, souk, father. 

375 Come . . . hence. Ends preceding line in Qq. 

376 last. B and C omit. 

380 I . . . enact. 1708, I will put in act. 
ivith the body. 1708. 



Actus V. Scena. I. 

[Milan. A Public Place.'] 
[Enter Antonio and Delia.] 

Antonio. What thinke you of my hope of re- 
concilement 
To the Aragonian brethren ? 

Delio. I misdoubt it ; 

For though they have sent their letters of safe 

conduct 
For your repaire to Millaine, they appeare 
But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pes- 

cara, 
Under whom you hold certaine land in cheit, 
Much 'gainst his noble nature hath bin mov*d 
To ceize those lands ; and some of his depend- 
ants 
Are at this instant making it their suit 
To be invested in your revenewes. 
I cannot thinke they meane well to your life 
That doe deprive you of your meanes of life, 
Your living. 

Ant. You are still an heretique 

To any safety I can shape my selfe. 

Enter Antonio, etc. Qq, Antonio, Delio, Pescara, Julia. 
13-14 heretique to any, Qq place a period after heretique. 



346 tE^t WntttitfS^t of ^alf^ [act v. 

Delta. Here comes the marquis : I will make 
my selfe 
Petitioner for some part of your land, 
To know whether it is flying. 

j^nt. I pray doe. [^IVithdraws to rear of stage. Ij^ 

\_Enter Pescara.~\ 

Delio. Sir, I have a suit to you. 

Pescara. To me ? 

Delio. An easie one : 

There is the Cittadell of St. Bennet, 
With some demeasnes, of late in the possession 20 
Of Antonio Bologna, — please you bestow them 
on me. 

Pes. You are my friend: but this is such a 
suit. 
Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. 

Delio. No, sir ? 

Pes. I will give you ample reason for't, 

Soone in private. Here's the cardinalls mistris. af 

\_Enter Julia.~\ 
Julia. My lord, I am growne your poore peti- 
tioner. 
And should be an ill begger had I not I 

A great mans letter here (the cardinalls) 
To court you in my favour. 

Pes, He entreates for you 

17 whether . BC, whither. 

I 



Scene I] X!I^\)t WUttf^t^St Ot ^^If^ 347 

The Cittadell of St. Bennet, that belong'd 3° 

To the banish'd Bologna. 

'Julia. Yes. 

Pes. I could not have thought of a friend I 
could 
Rather pleasure with it : 'tis yours. 

'Julia. Sir, I thanke you : 

And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd 
Both in your guift and speedinesse of giving, 35 
Which makes your graunt the greater. Exit. 

Ant. \aside^ How they fortefie 

Themselves with my ruine ! 

Delio. Sir, I am 

Litle bound to you. 

Pes. Why ? 

Delio. Because you denide this suit to me, and 
gav't 
To such a creature. 

Pes. Doe you know what it was ? 40 

It was Antonios land : not forfeyted 
By course of lawe ; but ravish'd from his throate 
By the cardinals entreaty : it were not fit 
I should bestow so maine a peece of wrong 
Upon my friend : 'tis a gratification 45 

Onely due to a strumpet ; for it is injustice. 
Shall I sprinckle the pure blood of innocents 
To make those followers I call my friends 

47 innocents. Query : innocence. 



348 tB^tje SDutclieflf^e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Looke ruddier upon me ? I am glad 

This land, ta'ne from the owner by such wrong, 5° 

Returnes againe unto so fowle an use 

As salary for his lust. Learne, good Delio, 

To aske noble things of me, and you shall find 

ril be a noble giver. 

Delio. You instruct me well. 

Jnt. ^astde.~\ Why, here's a man, now, would 

fright impudence 5| 

From sawciest beggers. | 

Pes. Prince Ferdinand's come to Millaine • 
Sicke, as they give out, of an appoplexie : 
But some say 'tis a frenzie. I am going 
To visite him. Exit. 

Ant. 'Tis a noble old fellow. 

Delio. What course doe you meane to take, 
Antonio ? 

Ant. This night, I meane to venture all my 
fortune. 
Which is no more then a poore lingring life, 
To the cardinals worst of mallice : I have got 
Private accesse to his chamber; and intend 
To visit him about the mid of night. 
As once his brother did our noble dutchesse. 
It may be that the sudden apprehension 
Of danger (for I'll goe in mine owne shape). 
When he shall see it fraight with love and dutie. 
May draw the poyson out of him, and worke 






Scene II. ] tE^i)t mntd^tHHt Of ©Hlf^ 349 

A friendly reconcilement ; if it faile, 

Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling ; 

For better fall once then be ever falling. 

Delio. ril second you in all danger : and how 
ere, 
My life keepes rancke with yours. 75 

Ant. You are still my lovM and best friend. 

Exeunt, 

SCENA. II. 

\_Milan. A Gallery in the Residence of the Cardinal 
and Ferdinand."] 

\_Enter Pes car a and Doctor.'] 

Pescara, Now doctor ; may I visit your 
patient ? 

Doctor. If't please your lordship : but he's 
instantly 
To take the ayre here in the gallery 
By my direction. 

Pes. 'Pray-thee, what's his disease ? 

Doc. A very pestilent disease, my lord, 5 

They call licanthropia. 

Pes. What's that? 

I need a dictionary to't. 

73 be ever, 1 708, be to ever : misprint for to be ever. 
Enter . . . Doctor. Qq, Pescara, a Doctor, Ferdinand, Cardi- 
nall, Malateste, Bosola, Julia. 
6 call. J^uery : call it. 



350 tKtie 2E>utcl)efif0e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Doc, ril tell you : 

In those that are possessed with't there ore- 

flowes 
Such mellencholy humour, they imagine 
Themselves to be transformed into woolves, 
Steale forth to church-yards in the dead of night, 
And dig dead bodies up : as two nights since 
One met the duke, 'bout midnight in a lane 
Behind St. Markes church, with the leg of a 

man 
Upon his shoulder ; and he howlM fearefully : 
Said he was a woolffe : onely the difference 
Was, a wooliFes skinne was hairy on the outside. 
His on the in-side : bad them take their swords. 
Rip up his flesh, and trie : straight I was sent 

for. 
And having ministerd to him, found his grace 
Very well recovered. 
Pes, I am glad on't. 

Doc. Yet not without some feare 

Of a relaps. If he grow to his fit againe, 
I'll goe a neerer way to worke with him 
Then ever Paracelsus dream'd of: if 
They'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madnesse 

out of him. 
Stand aside : he comes. 

8 those. BC, these. 17 nvas hairy. BC, 1708, is hairy. 
20 to. BC, 1708, unto. 24 This line is omitted in BC and 
1708 J the latter text omits If he groiv . . . dreamed of. 



Scene II. ] ®J)e ^XXtd^tS&t Of ^^Hlf^ 35 I 

[£/?/<?r Ferdinand, Malatestey Cardinal, and Bosola.'\ 

Ferdinand. Leave me. 

Malateste. Why doth your lordship love this 
solitarines ? 3° 

Ferd. Eagles commonly fly alone : they are 
Crowes, dawes, and sterlings that flocke together. 
Looke, what's that followes me ? 

Mai. Nothing, my lord. 

Ferd. Yes. 35 

Mai. 'Tis your shadow. 

Ferd. Stay it, let it not haunt me. 

Mai. Impossible, if you move and the sun 
shine. 

Ferd. I will throtle it. 4© 

[ Throws himself on the ground. ] 

Mai. Oh, my lord, you are angry with no- 
thing. 

Ferd. You are a foole : how is't possible I 
should catch my shadow unlesse I fall upon't ? 
When I goe to hell, I meane to carry a bribe : 45 
for looke you, good guifts ever-more make way 
for the worst persons. 

Pes. Rise, good my lord. 

Ferd. I am studying the art of patience. 

Pes. 'Tis a noble vertue. 5° 

Ferd. To drive six snailes before me, from 

29 love this. BC, 1708, use this. 
Throivs . . . ground. 1708. 



352 tCije 2E>utct)e00e of ^alf^ [act v. 

this towne to Mosco ; neither use goad nor 
whip to them, but let them take their owne time : 
the patientst man i'th' world match me for an 
experiment ! and I'll crawle after like a sheepe- 
biter. 

Cardinal. Force him up. 

Ferd. Use me well, you were best. 
What I have don, I have don : I'll confesse 
nothing. 

Doc. Now let me come to him : are you mad, 
my lord ? 
Are you out of your princely wits ? 

Ferd. What's he ? 

Pes. Your doctor, 

Ferd. Let me have his beard saw'd off, and 
his eye browes 
Fil'd more civill. 

Doc. I must doe mad trickes with him, 

For that's the onely way on't. I have brought 
Your grace a salamanders skin, to keepe you 
From sun-burning. 

Ferd. I have cruell sore eyes. 

Doc. The white of a cockatrixes egge is pre- 
sent remedy. 

Ferd. Let it be a new layd one, you were best. 
Hide me from him : physitians are like kings, — 
They brooke no contradiction. 

60 my lord ? Begins following line in Qq. 62 broives. Begins 
following line in Qq. 63 FiP d. BC, fiU'd. 



Scene II] XE^t WUtC^t&^t Of ^^alf^ 353 

Doc. Now he begins 70 

To feare me, now let me alone with him. 

Card. How now, put off your gowne ? 

Doc. Let me have some forty urinalls filFd 
with rose-water : he and I'll go pelt one an other 
with them. Now he begins to feare me. Can 75 
you fetch a friske, sir ? Let him go, let him go 
upon my perrill. I iinde by his eye he stands in 
awe of me : I'll make him as tame as a dormouse. 

Ferd. Can you fetch your friskes, sir ? I will 
stamp him into a cullice, flea off his skin to 80 
cover one of the anatomies this rogue hath set 
i'th' cold yonder in Barber-Chyrurgeons hall. 
Hence, hence, you are all of you like beasts for 
sacrifice; [^T/irozvs the doctor down and beats him.'^ 
there's nothing left of you but tongue and belly, 85 
flattery and leachery. \^Exit.'\ 

Pes. Doctor, he did not feare you throughly. 

Doc. True, I was somewhat to[o] forward. 

Bosola. Mercy upon me, what a fatall judge- 
ment 
Hath falne upon this Ferdinand ! 

Pes. Knowes your grace 90 

What accident hath brought unto the prince 
This strange distraction ? 

71 To feare me. Ends preceding line in Qq. Following line 71, 
the 1708 stage direction is: puts off hii four Cloaks one after 
another. 

81 anatomies. A, anotomies. 84 Throius . . . Aim. 1708. 



354 tCtje 2Dutcl)e0fi?e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Card, [aside.'] I must faigne somewhat. Thus 
they say it grew : 
You have heard it rumor'd for these many yeares 
None of our family dies but there is scene 
The shape of an old woman, which is given 
By tradition to us to have bin murther'd 
By her nephewes for her riches. Such a figure 
One night, as the prince sat up late at's booke, 
Appear'd to him j when crying out for helpe, ic 
The gentlemen oPs chamber found his grace 
All on a cold sweate, alter'd much in face 
And language : since which apparition. 
He hath growne worse and worse, and I much 

feare 
He cannot live. 

^°^' Sir, I would speake with you. lo 

Pes. We'll leave your grace. 
Wishing to the sicke prince, our noble lord. 
All health of minde and body. 

^^^d' You are most welcome. 

[Exeunt. Manent Cardinal and Bosola.'] 
Are you come ? so. [Aside.] This fellow must 

not know 
By any meanes I had intelligence u^ 

In our duchesse death : for though I counselled it, 
The full of all th' ingagement seem'd to grow 

Exeunt . . . Boiola. 1708, < 

112 ingagement. BC, agreement. j 



II 



Scene II] ^i^t 2DUCCtieflf00 Of ^Hlf^ 355 

From Ferdinand. Now sir, how fares our sister? 
I do not thinke but sorrow makes her looke 
Like to an oft-di'd garment. She shall now 115 
Tast comfort from me. Why do you looke so 

wildely ? 
Oh, the fortune of your master here, the prince. 
Dejects you ; but be you of happy comfort : 
If you'll do on [e] thing for me I'll entreate. 
Though he had a cold tombe-stone ore his bones, 1 20 
ril'd make you what you would be. 

Bos. Any thing, — 

Give it me in a breath, and let me flie to't : 
They that thinke long small expedition win, 
For musing much o'th' end cannot begin. 
\_Enier Julia.'\ 

'Julia. Sir, will you come in to supper ? 
Card. I am busie, leave me. 125 

'Julia. \aside^ What an excellent shape hath 
that fellow ! Exit. 

Card. 'Tis thus : Antonio lurkes here in 
Millaine, — 
Enquire him out, and kill him. While he lives. 
Our sister cannot marry ; and I have thought 
Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and 

stile me 130 

Thy advancement. 

121 nvould. BC, should; 1708, you'd be. 

122 it me. BC, me it. 



356 ttrije 2E)utct)fs?0e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Bos, But by what meanes shall I find him ' 

out ? 
Card. There is a gentleman calFd Delio 
Here in the campe, that hath bin long approvM 
His loyall friend. Set eie upon that fellow, 
Follow him to masse ; may be Antonio, 
Although he do account religion 
But a schoole-name, for fashion of the world. 
May accompany him ; or else go enquire out 
Delio's confessor, and see if you can bribe 
Him to reveale it. There are a thousand wayes i 
A man might find to trace him : as to know 
What fellowes haunt the Jewes for taking up 
Great summes of money, for sure he's in want ; 
Or else to go to th' picture-makers, and learne 
Who brought her picture lately : some of these hj 
Happily may take 

Bos. Well, I'll not freeze i'th' businesse, 
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio, 
Above all sightes i'th' world. 

Card. Do, and be happy. Exit. 

Bos. This fellow doth breed bazalisques in's 
eies ; 

He's nothing else but murder: yet he seemes 15c 
Not to have notice of the duchesse death. 
'Tis his cunning : I must follow his example ; 

131 But. Omitted in BC. 132 There is. BC, There's. 

145 brought^ Qq. Dyce, almost certainly correctly, bought. 



Scene ii] ®^e 2Dutcl)r0sfe of ^alf^ 357 

There cannot be a surer way to trace 
Then that of an old fox. 

Julia, So, sir, you are well met. 

Bos. How now ! 155 

Julia. Nay, the doores are fast enough : 
Now sir, 1 will make you confesse your treach- 
ery. 

Bos. Treachery ? 

Julia. Yes, confesse to me 

Which of my women 'twas you hyr'd, to put 
Love-powder into my drinke ? '60 

Bos. Love-powder ? 

Julia. Yes, when I was at Malfy : 

Why should I fall in love with such a face else ? 
I have already sufFer'd for thee so much paine, 
The onely remedy to do me good 
Is to kill my longing. 

Bos. Sure, your pistoll holds 165 

Nothing but perfumes, or kissing-comfits : ex- 
cellent lady. 
You have a pritty way on't to discover 
Your longing. Come, come. Til disarme you. 
And arme you thus : yet this is wondrous 
strange. 

Julia. Compare thy forme and my eyes to- 
gether, 170 

Enter Julia. Probably a direction should be added ; nuith a pistol. 



358 tET^e 2r>utcl^e0s?e of ^alf^ [actv. 

You'll find my love no such great miracle. 

Now you'll say I 

I am wanton. This nice modesty in ladies 
Is but a troublesome familiar I 

That haunts them. 

Bos, Know you me, I am a blunt souldier. 

Julia. The better: 17 

Sure, there wants fire, where there are no lively 

sparkes 
Of roughnes. 

Bos. And I want complement. 

Julia. Why ignorance 

In court-ship cannot make you do amisse, 
If you have a heart to do well. 

Bos. You are very faire. 

Julia. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, 18; 
I must plead unguilty. 

Bos. Your bright eyes 

Carry a quiver of darts in them, sharper 
Then sun-beames. 

Julia, You will mar me with commen- I 

dation, . 

Put your selfe to the charge of courting me, | 

Whereas now I woe you. i^! 

Bos. [aside.'] I have it, I will worke upon 
this creature. 



177 complement. Dyce, compliment. Why ignorance. Begins 
next line in Qq. 



I 



Scene II.] ^\^t E>UtClbe00e Of ^alf^ 359 

Let us grow most amorously familiar : 

If the great cardinall now should see me thus, 

Would he not count me a villaine ? 

Julia, No, he might count me a wanton, 190 
Not lay a scruple of offence on you : 
For if I see and steale a diamond. 
The fault is not i'th' stone, but in me the thiefe 
That purloines it. I am sudaine with you : 
We that are great women of pleasure use to 

cut off 195 

These uncertaine wishes and unquiet longings. 
And in an instant joyne the sweete delight 
And the pritty excuse together. Had you bin 

i'th' streete. 
Under my chamber window, even there 
I should have courted you. 200 

Bos, Oh, you are an excellent lady ! 

Julia. Bid me do somewhat for you presently. 
To expresse I love you. 

Bos. I will ; and if you love me, 

Faile not to effect it. 

The cardinall is growne wondrous mellancholly : 205 
Demand the cause, let him not put you off 
With faign'd excuse ; discover the maine ground 
on't. 

191 Not lay. (^uery : Nor lay. 198 ;'M'. A, in'th'. 
199 This line is omitted in BC, 1708. 
204 Faile . . . it. Begins next line in Qq. 



360 ®^e 2r>tttt]&e00e of ^alf^ [act v. 

'Julia. Why would you know this ? 

Bos. I have depended on him, 

And I heare that he is falne in some disgrace 
With the emperour ; if he be, like the mice aii 
That forsake falling houses, I would shift 
To other dependance. 

Julia. You shall not neede follow the warres, 
ril be your maintenance. 

Bos. And I your loyall servant : 

But I cannot leave my calling. 

Julia. Not leave an 22 

Ungratefull generall for the love of a sweete 

lady ? 
You are like some cannot sleepe in feather- 
beds. 
But must have blockes for their pillowes. 

Bos. Will you do this ? 

Julia. Cunningly. 

Bos. To morrow Fll expect th' intelligence. 2 

Julia. To morrow ? get you into my cabinet, 
You shall have it with you. Do not delay 

me. 
No more then I do you : I am like one 
That is condemned : I have my pardon promisM, 
But I would see it sealM. Go, get you in ; 2 
You shall see me winde my tongue about his 

heart. 
Like a skeine of silke. \Extt Bosola.'] 



Scene II.] tE^{)t 2DUtCl)e00e Of ^alf^ 36 1 

[^E^ter Cardinal. ] 

Cardinal. Where are you ? 
[Enter Servants.'^ 

Servants. Here. 

Card. Let none upon your lives 

Have conference with the Prince Ferdinand, 
Unlesse I know it. \_Jside.'\ In this distraction 230 

\_Exeunt Servants."^ 
He may reveale the murther. 
Yond's my lingring consumption : 
I am weary of her ; and by any meanes 
Would be quit off. 

Julia. How now, my lord ? what ailes you ? 

Card. Nothing. 

Julia. Oh, you are much alterd : 235 

Come, I must be your secretary, and remove 
This lead from off your bosome : what's the 
matter ? 

Card. I may not tell you. 

Julia. Are you so farre in love with sorrow 
You cannot part with part of it ? or thinke you 240 
I cannot love your grace when you are sad. 
As well as merry ? or do you suspect 
I, that have bin a secret to your heart 
These many winters, cannot be the same 
Unto your tongue ? 

228 you? 1708, you all? 234 off. C, 1708, off her; 

Dyce, of. luhat . . . you ? Begins new line in Qq. 

239 Are you. 1 708, You are. 



362 tIPtie 2i>tttc^e00e of ^alf^ [actv. | 

Card. Satisfie thy longing : 445 

The onely way to make thee keepe my councell 
Is not to tell thee. 

Julia. Tell your eccho this, 

Or flatterers, that like ecchoes still report 
What they heare, though most imperfect, and 

not me : 
For, if that you be true unto your selfe, 250J 

I'll know. 

Card. Will you racke me ? 

Julia. No, judgement shall 

Draw it from you : it is an equall fault. 
To tell ones secrets unto all or none. 

Card. The first argues folly. 

Julia. But the last tyranny. 255 

Card. Very well : why, imagine I have com- 
mitted 
Some secret deed, which I desire the world 
May never heare of. 

Julia. Therefore may not I know it ? 

You have conceal'd for me as great a sinne 
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion 260 

For perfect triall of my constancy 
Till now. Sir, I beseech you. | 

256 ivell, ivhy imagine . . . heare of? is the punctuation of 
Qq, — completely misleading to modern eyes. \ 

260 B, followed by C, 1708, reads &>, / beseech you instead 
of 5/r, ne'ver was occasion ^ — a misprint evidently caught from 
1. 262. 






Scene ii] tD^jje 2Dutc^esf0e of ^alft 363 

Card, You'll repent it. 

Julia. Never. 

Card. It hurries thee to ruine : I'll not tell 
thee. 
Be well advis'd, and thinke what danger 'tis ^65 
To receive a princes secrets : they that do, 
Had neede have their breasts hoop'd with ada- 
mant 
To containe them. I pray thee yet be satisfi'd ; 
Examine thine owne frailety ; 'tis more easie 
To tie knots then unloose them : 'tis a secret ^7© 
That, like a lingring poyson, may chance lie 
Spread in thy vaines, and kill thee seaven yeare 
hence. 
Julia. Now you dally with me. 
Card. No more ; thou shalt know it. 

By my appointment, the great Duchesse of 

Malfy, 
And two of her yong children, foure nights since, 275 
Were strangled. 

Julia. Oh heaven ! sir, what have you 

done ? 
Card. How now ? how setles this ? thinke 
you your bosome 
Will be a grave darke and obscure enough 
For such a secret ? 

Julia. You have undone your selfe, sir. 

277 bosome. Begins next line in Qq. 



364 ®t)e 2Dtttc^e00e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Card, Why? 

"Julia. It lies not in me to conceale it. 

Card, No? 28. 

Come, I will sweare you to't upon this booke. 

Julia. Most religiously. 

Card. Kisse it. 

Now you shall never utter it : thy curiosity 
Hath undone thee : thou'rt poyson'd with that 

booke. 
Because I knew thou couldst not keepe my 

councell, 28 

I have bound the[e] to*t by death. 
\Enter Bosola.'\ 

Bosola. For pitty sake, hold ! 

Card. Ha, Bosola ? 

Julia. I forgive you 

This equall peece of justice you have done : 
For I betraid your councell to that fellow ; 
He over heard it ; that was the cause I said 29 
It lay not in me to conceale it. j 

Bos. Oh foolish woman, 
Couldst not thou have poyson'd him ? 

Julia. 'T is weakenesse, 

Too much to thinke what should have bin done. 

I go, 
I know not whether. [D/>/.] 

280 No ? Begins next line in Qq. 294 / go. Begins next 
line in J^q. 295 whether. BC, whither. 



I 



Scene II] ^\)t WUtt\)tSiSit Of ^alf^ 365 

Card. Wherefore com'st thou hither? 295 

Bos. That I might finde a great man, Hke 
your selfe, 
Not out of his wits (as the Lord Ferdinand), 
To remember my service. 

Card. I'll have thee hew'd in peeces. 

Bos. Make not your selfe such a promise of 
that life 
Which is not yours to dispose of. 

Card. Who plac'd thee here ? 300 

Bos. Her lust, as she intended. 

Card. Very well : 

Now you know me for your fellow murderer. 

Bos. And wherefore should you lay faire 
marble colours 
Upon your rotten purposes to me ? 
Unlesse you imitate some that do plot great 

treasons, 305 

And when they have done, go hide themselves 

i'th' graves 
Of those were actors in't ? 

Card. No more : 

There is a fortune attends thee. 

Bos. Shall I go sue to fortune any longer ? 
'Tis the fooles pilgrimage. 310 

Card. I have honors in store for thee. 

301 F'ery ivell. Begins next line in Qq. 
309 sue to fortune. BC, sue a fortune. 



366 ^iie 2[>utct)e0sie of £palf^ [act v. 

Bos. There are a many wayes that conduct 
to seeming j 

Honor, and some of them very durty ones. | 

Card. Throw to the divell I 

Thy mellancholly. The fire burnes well, — 31 1 
What neede we keepe a stirring oPt, and make 
A greater smoother ? Thou wilt kill Antonio ? ' 

Bos. Yes. 

Card. Take up that body. 

Bos. I thinke I shall 

Shortly grow the common bier for church-yards. 

Card. I will allow thee some dozen of attend- 
ants, 3*1 
To aide thee in the murther. 

Bos. Oh, by no meanes. Physitians that apply 
horse-leiches to any rancke swelling use to cut 
off their tailes, that the blood may run through 
them the faster. Let me have no traine when 1 32: 
goe to shed blood, least it make me have a greater 
when I ride to the gallowes. 

Card. Come to me after midnight, to helpe 
to remove that body 
To her owne lodging : I'll give out she dide 

o'th' plague; 
'Twill breed the lesse enquiry after her death. 33 

Bos. Where's Castruchio, her husband ? 

312 a. BC omit. 317 greater. BC, great. 
319 bier. AB, beare. J^uery : bearer. 
323-324 cut off. AB, cut of. 



Scene II] ^^t U>UtCf)tfSi^t Of ^alf^ 367 

Carci. He's rod [e] to Naples to take possession 
Of Antonio's cittadell. 

Bos. Beleeve me, you have done a very happy 

turne. 
Car^i. Faile not to come. There is the mas- 
ter-key 335 
Of our lodgings : and by that you may conceive 
What trust I plant in you. Exit. 
Bos. You shall find me ready. 
Oh, poore Antonio, though nothing be so need- 
full 
To thy estate as pitty, yet I finde 
Nothing so dangerous. I must looke to my 

footing : 340 

In such slippery yce-pavements men had neede 
To be frost-nayld well : they may breake their 

neckes else. 
The [precedent's] here afore me. How this 

man 
Beares up in blood ! seemes feareles ! why, 'tis 

well : 
Securitie some men call the suburbs of hell, 345 
Onely a dead wall betweene. Well, good An- 
tonio, 
I'll seeke thee out ; and all my care shall be 
To put thee into safety from the reach 
Of these most cruell biters, that have got 

343 precedent's. Dyce. Qq, President's. 



368 tE^\)t HE>utct)esi0r of ^alf^ [act v. 



Some of thy blood already. It may be ^^^l 

I'll joyne with thee in a most just revenge. 
The weakest arme is strong enough that strikes 
With the sword of justice. Still me thinkes the 

dutchesse 
Haunts me : there, there ! 'Tis nothing but my 

mellancholy. 

O Penitence, let me truely tast thy cup, ^^^ 

That throwes men downe onely to raise them 

up ! Exif. 

SCENA. III. 

[Mi/an. A Fortification.'] 

[Enter] Antonio [and] De Ho. Eccho (^ from the Dutch- 
esse Grave.^ 

Delio. Yond's the cardinall's window. This 

fortification 
Grew from the ruines of an auncient abbey : 
And to yond side o'th' river, lies a wall, 
Peece of a cloyster, which in my opinion 
Gives the best eccho that you ever heard ; 
So hollow and so dismall, and withall 
So plaine in the destinction of our words. 
That many have supposde it is a spirit 
That answeres. 

353 1708 has here the direction: Starts. 

356 raise. B, rise. Dutchesse Gra-ve. Probably really at Amalfi. 
I Tond's the. 1708, That's the. 



Scene III] tET^je '^Utt^t^tSit Of ^alffe 369 

Antonio. I doe love these auncient ruynes. 
We never tread upon them but we set '® 

Our foote upon some reverend history ; 
And questionles, here in this open court, 
Which now lies naked to the injuries 
Of stormy weather, some men lye enterr'd 
LovM the church so well, and gave so largely 

to't, 15 

They thought it should have canopide their 

bones 
Till doombes-day. But all things have their end : 
Churches and citties (which have diseases like 

to men) 
Must have like death that we have. 

Echo. Like death that we have. 

Delio. Now the eccho hath caught you. 20 

Jnt. It groan'd, me thought, and gave 
A very deadly accent ? 

Echo. Deadly accent. 

Delio. I told you 'twas a pretty one. You 
may make it 
A huntes-man, or a faulconer, a musitian. 
Or a thing of sorrow. 

Echo. J thing of sorrow. 25 

Jnt. I, sure : that suites it best. 

Echo. That suites it best. 

Ant. 'Tis very like my wives voyce. 

14 some men lye. BC, some lye. 



370 ®^e 2Dutct)e0flfe of ^alf^ [act v. 

Echo, /, wifes-voyce. 

Delio. Come : let's us walke farther from*t. 
I would not have you go to th' cardinalls to night : 
Doe not. 

Echo. Doe not, 

Delio. Wisdome doth not more moderate 
wasting sorrow 
Then time : take time for't : be mindfull of 
thy safety. 

Echo. Be mindfull of thy safety. 

Ant. Necessitie compells me : 
Make scruteny throughout the pass[ag]es 
Of your owne life ; you'll find it impossible 
To flye your fate. 

[£c^<?.] O flye your fate, 

Delio. Harke : the dead stones seeme to have 
pitty on you 
And give you good counsell. 

Ant. Eccho, I will not talke with thee ; 
For thou art a dead thing. 

Echo. Thou art a dead thing. 

Ant. My dutchesse is asleepe now, 
And her litle-ones, I hope sweetly : oh heaven, 
Shall I never see her more ? 

Echo. Never see her more. 

28 lei's us. 1708, let's; Dyce, let us. 

29 BC omit^o,* 1708 retains it. 
35 passages^ 1708 ; Qq, passes. 

37 2q omit to assign this speech to Echo. 



Scene III.] tlT^e ^ntti)tSi&t Of ^alf^ 3 7 1 

j^nt. I mark'd not one repetition of the eccho 45 
But that : and on the sudden a cleare light 
Presented me a face folded in sorrow. 

Delio. Your fancy meerely. 

Ant. Come, I'll be out of this ague ; 

For to live thus is not indeed to live : 
It is a mockery, and abuse of life. 50 

I will not henceforth save my selfe by halves. 
Loose all or nothing. 

Delio. Your owne vertue save you ! 

I'll fetch your eldest sonne ; and second you : 
It may be that the sight of his owne blood 
Spred in so sweet a figure may beget 55 

The more compassion. How ever, fare you 

well : 
Though in our miseries. Fortune have a part, 
Yet, in our noble sufFrings, she hath none ; 
Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne. 

Exe\unt.'\ 

5a loose. B, lose. 55 in. BC, into. 

56 H01V . . . ivell. Printed as a separate line in Qq, which 
may perhaps indicate that the farewell and succeeding lines were 
spoken by Antonio. 



372 tKlje 2E>utclfte00e of ^alf^ [actv. 
ScENA. ml. 

[Milan. A Room in the Residence of the Cardinal and 
Ferdinand.'^ 

[Enter] Cardinal, Pescara, Malateste, Rodorigo, 
Grisolan. 

Cardinal. You shall not watch to night by 
the sicke prince ; 
His grace is very well recovered. 

Malateste. Good my lord, suffer us. 

Card, Oh, by no meanes : 

The noyce and change of object in his eye, 
Doth more distract him : I pray, all to bed ; 
And though you heare him in his violent fit, 
Do not rise, I intreate you. 

Pescara, So sir, we shall not. 

Card. Nay, I must have you promise 

Upon your honors, for I was enjoyn'd to't 
By himselfe ; and he seem'd to urge it sencibly. 

Pes. Let our honors bind this trifle. 

Card. Nor any of your followers. 

Mai. Neither. 

Card. It may be, to make triall of your pro- 
mise. 
When he's a sleepe, my selfe will rise, and faigne 
Some of his mad trickes, and crie out for helpe. 
And faigne my selfe in danger. 

Enter . . . Grisolan. Qq add : Bosola, Ferdinand, Antonio, 
Seirvant. 2 reco'ver'' d. Query: recovered. 



I 



Scene IIIL] tE^Je 'S^XXtt^tS&t Of ^alf^ 373 

Ma/. If your throate were cutting, 
rird not come at you now I have protested 
against it. 
Card. Why, I thanke you. 

Grisolan. 'Twas a foule storme to night, ^o 

Rodorigo. The Lord Ferdinand's chamber 

shooke like an ozier. 
Mai. 'Twas nothing but pure kindnesse in 
the divell 
To rocke his owne child. 

Exeunt [all except Cardinal.'\ 
Card. The reason why I would not suffer 
these 
About my brother is because at midnight 25 

I may with better privacy convay 
Julias body, to her owne lodging. O, my con- 
science ! 
I would pray now : but the divell takes away 

my heart 
For having any confidence in praier. 
About this houre I appointed Bosola 30 

To fetch the body : when he hath servM my 

turne, 
He dies. Exit. 

\_Enter Bosola. '\ 
Bosola. Hah ! 'twas the cardinalls voyce : I 
heard him name 

10 Vaughan inserts stage direction : JVithdraiui to the upper end 
of the apartment. 



374 tET^e 2r>utcl^esf0e of ^alf^ [act v. 

Bosola and my death. Listen, I heare ones foot- 
ing. 

\_Enter Ferdinand.~\ 
Ferdinand. Strangling is a very quiet death. 35 
Bos, \_aside.~\ Nay then, I see I must stand upon 

my guard. 
Ferd. What say' to that ? whisper, softly : doe 
you agree to't ? So : it must be done i'th* darke : 
the cardinall would not for a thousand pounds 
the doctor should see it. Exit. 40 

Bos. My death is plotted ; here's the conse- 
quence of murther. 
" We value not desert.^ nor Christian breath.^ 
When we know black e deedes must be cur^de with 
death. 

^Enter Antonio and Servant. ~\ 
Servant. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I 
pray: 
I'll fetch you a darke lanthorne. Exit. 45 

Antonio. Could I take him at his prayers. 
There were hope of pardon. 

Bos. Fall right my sword : \_W0und5 him.'\ 

I'll not give thee so much leysure as to pray. 
Ant. Oh, I am gone ! Thou hast ended a 

long suit, 50 

In a mynut. 

37-40 This speech might be printed as verse, with lines end- 
ing in roV, cardinally and iee it. 37 say\ C, say you. 
38 So. Qq and 1708 have no punctuation after this. 



Scene IIII] ^^t SDtttCl) 00610 Of ^Hlf^ 375 

Bos, What art thou ? 

Jnt. A most wretched thing, 

That onely have thy benefit in death, 
To appeare my selfe. 

[^E;^ier Servant with a light. "^ 

Servant. Where are you sir ? 
Ant. Very neere my home : Bosola ? 55 

Serv. Oh misfortune ! 

Bos. Smother thy pitty, thou art dead else : 
Antonio ? 
The man I would have savMe 'hove mine owne 

life! 
We are meerely the starres tennys-balls, strooke 

and banded 
Which way please them. Oh good Antonio, 60 
I'll whisper one thing in thy dying eare 
Shall make thy heart breake quickly. Thy faire 
dutchesse 

And two sweet children 

Ant. Their very names 

Kindle a litle life in me. 

Bos. Are murderd ! 

Ant. Some men have wish'd to die 65 

At the hearing of sad tydings : I am glad 
That I shall do't in sadnes : I would not now 
Wish my wounds balm'de nor heal'd, for I have 
no use 



37^ W^t SE>utcftesf0e of ^alf^ [act v. 

To put my life to. In all our quest of greatnes. 
Like wanton boyes, whose pastime is their care, 70 
We follow after bubbles blowne in th' ayre. 
Pleasure of life, what is't ? onely the good houres 
Of an ague : meerely a preparative to rest, 
To endure vexation. I doe not aske 
The processe of my death : onely commend me 75 
To Delio. 

Bos. Breake heart ! 

Jnt. And let my sonne flie the courts of 
princes. [D/W.] 

Bos. Thou seem'st to have lov'd Antonio ? 

Serv. I brought him hether. 
To have reconcil'd him to the cardinall. 

Bos. I doe not aske thee that : 
Take him up, if thou tender thine owne life, 
And beare him where the lady Julia 
Was wont to lodge. Oh, my fate moves swift ! 85 
I have this cardinall in the forge already ; 
Now I'll bring him to th' hammer. O direful 

misprision ! 
I will not imitate things glorious. 
No more then base : I'll be mine owne example. 
On, on : and looke thou represent, for silence, 
The thing thou bear'st. Exeunt. 

81 him to. BC, him with. 



Scene V. ] tETJje WUtt^tiSit Of ^alf^ 377 

SCENA. V. 

^Mi/an, A Hall in samcy with Gallery.'^ 
\_Enter\ Cardinally with a Booke. 

Cardinal. I am puzzellM in a question about 
hell: 
He sales, in hell there's one materiall fire, 
And yet it shall not burne all men alike. 
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty con- 
science ! 
When I looke into the fish-ponds in my garden, 
Me thinkes I see a thing arm'd with a rake, 
That seemes to strike at me. 
\_Enter Bosola, and Servant bearing Antonio' s body.'\ 
Now ? art thou come ? 
Thou look'st ghastly : 

There sits in thy face some great determination, 
Mix'd with some feare. 

Bosola. Thus it lightens into action : 
I am come to kill thee. 

Card. Hah ! — Helpe ! our guard ! 
Bos. Thou art deceived : 
They are out of thy howling. 

"Enter . , . Booke. Qq add : Bosola, Pescara, Malateste, Rodo- 
rigo, Ferdinand, Delio, Servant [BC, Servants] with Antonio's 
body. 3 Lay him by. Mr. Daniel suggests that this may be a 
stage direction. Enter . . . body. Dyce. 1708 places after some 
feare : Enter Bosola. 8 TAou . . . ghastly. Ends preceding line 
inQq. 



37^ tirtie 2r>tttcl)e0sfe of £palf^ [act v. 

Card. Hold : and I will faithfully devide 
Revenewes with thee. 

Bos. Thy prayers and proffers 
Are both unseasonable. 

Card. Raise the watch ! we are betraid ! 

Bos. I have confinde your flight : 
I'll stifFer your retreyt to Julias chamber, 
But no further. 

Card. Helpe ! we are betraid ! 
\_Enter Malateste, RoderigOy Pescara, Grisolan, 
above. ~\ 

Malateste. Listen ! 

Card. My dukedome for rescew ! 

Roderigo. Fye upon his counterfeyting ! 

Mai. Why, 'tis not the cardinall. 

Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he : 
But I'll see him hang'd ere I'll goe downe to 
him. 

Card. Here's a plot upon me, I am assaulted ! 
I am lost, 
Unlesse some rescew ! 

Grisolan. He doth this pretty well : 

But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine 
honour. 

Card. The sword's at my throat ! 

1 6 and. BC omit. Enter . . . above. 1 708, except that 
Dyce adds Grisolan, wrongly omitted. 

33 serve. AB place a semi-colon after this. 



Scene v] tETj^e 2[>utcl)e00f of ^alf^ 379 

Rod. You would not bawle so lowd then. 
Mai. Come, come : let's goe to bed : he told 

us this much aforehand. 35 

Pescara. He wish'd you should not come at 
him : but beleeve't, 
The accent of the voyce sounds not in jest. 
rU downe to him, howsoever, and with engines 
Force ope the doores. \_Exit above.'] 

Rod. Let's follow him aloofe. 

And note how the cardinall will laugh at him. 40 
[Exeunt, above, Malateste, Roderigo, and 
Grisolan.] 
Bos. There's for you first : 
'Cause you shall not unbarracade the doore 
To let in rescew. He kills the Servant. 

Card. What cause hast thou to pursue my 

life ? 
Bos. Looke there. 

Card. Antonio ? 

Bos. Slaine by my hand unwittingly. 45 

Pray, and be sudden : when thou kill'dst thy 

sister. 
Thou tookst from Justice her most equall bal- 

lance, 
And left her naught but her sword. 

Card. O mercy ! 

35 let^s. A, lets's. 41 There's . . . first. Begins next line 
in Qq. Dyce changes. 48 her sivord. BC, the sword. 



380 XE^t Wntt^t^^t of £palf^ [act v. 

Bos. Now it seemes thy greatnes was onely 
outward : 
For thou fall'st faster of thy selfe then calamitie 
Can drive thee. I'll not wast longer time : there ! 

Card. Thou hast hurt me. 

Bos. Againe ! 

Card. Shall I die like a levoret 

Without any resistance ? helpe, helpe, helpe ! 
I am slaine ! 

\_Enter Ferdinand.'^ 

Ferdinand. Th' allarum? give me a fresh horse! 
Rally the vaunt-guard or the day is lost ! 
Yeeld, yeeld ! I give you the honour of armes, 
Shake my sword over you ; will you yeilde ? 

Card. Helpe me, I am your brother ! 

Ferd. The divell ! 

My brother fight upon the adverse party ? 

He wounds the Cardinally andy in the scuffle y 
gives Bosola his death wound. 
There flies your ransome. 

Card. Oh justice ! 
" I suffer now for what hath former bin : 
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin. 

Ferd. Now you're brave fellowes. Caesars 
fortune was harder then Pompeys : Caesar died 
in the armes of prosperity, Pompey at the feete 

52 levoret. 1 708, leveret. 






Scene V] tH^fft 2DtttCi)e0fife Of ^^U^ 381 

of disgrace. You both died in the field. The 
paine's nothing : paine many times is taken 
away with the apprehension of greater, as the 
tooth-ache with the sight of a harbor that comes 70 
to pull it out : there's philosophy for you. 

Bos, Now my revenge is perfect. Sinke, thou 
maine cause 
Of my undoing ! The last part of my life 
Hath done me best service. He kills Ferdinand. 

Ferd. Give me some wet hay, I am broken 

winded. 75 

I do account this world but a dog-kennell : 
I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures 
Beyond death. 

Bos. He seemes to come to himselfe. 

Now he's so neere the bottom. 

Ferd. My sister, oh my sister ! there's the 
cause on't. 80 

" Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, 
" Like diamonds, we are cut with our owne , 
dust. [Z)/>j.] 

Card. Thou hast thy payment too. 

Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soule in my teeth ; 
'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory 85 

That thou, which stood'st like a huge piramid 
Begun upon a large and ample base, 
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing. 

78 Beyond death. Omitted in BC. He seemes . . . bottom. 
One line in Qq. 



382 tE^t W>ntt^t&&t of ^alf^ [Act v. 

[^E^ter, belowy Pescara, MalatestCy Roderigo, and 
GrisolanJ^ 

Pescara. How now, my lord ? 

Malateste, Oh sad disastre ! 

Roderigo, How comes this ? 

Bos. Revenge, for the Duchesse of Malfy, 
murdered 
By th' Aragonian brethren : for Antonio, 
Slaine by [t] his hand : for lustfull Julia, 
Poyson'd by this man : and lastly, for my selfe, 
That was an actor in the maine of all 
Much 'gainst mine owne good nature, yet i'th' 

end 
Neglected. 

Pes. How now, my lord ? 

Card. Looke to my brother : 

He gave us these large wounds as we were 

strugling 
Here i'th' rushes. And now, I pray, let me 
Be layd by, and never thought of. [Z)z>j.] 

Pes. How fatally, it seemes, he did withstand 10 
His owne rescew ! 

Mai. Thou wretched thing of blood, 

How came Antonio by his death ? 

Bos. In a mist : I know not how : 

Enter . . . Grisolan. 1 708 reads: Enter Pescara, &c. 
92 this hand. 1708 corrects. 

102-105 These four lines should perhaps be treated as three, the 
verses ending in misty as /, gone. 



I 



Scene v] tEP^ie 2E>utct)e00e of ^alf^ 383 

Such a mistake as I have often scene 
In a play. Oh, I am gone ! 105 

We are onely like dead wals, or vaulted graves, 
That ruin'd yeildes no eccho. Fare you well. 
It may be paine, but no harme to me to die 
In so good a quarrell. Oh this gloomy world ! 
In what a shadow, or deepe pit of darknesse, no 
Doth womanish and fearefull mankind live ! 
Let worthy mindes nere stagger in distrust 
To suffer death or shame for what is just : 
Mine is an other voyage. [D/^j.] 

Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to th' pal- 
lace, "5 
Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd 

me 
A pritty gentleman, his sonne and heire. 

[^Enter Delio and Antonio* s Son.'\ 

Mai. Oh sir, you come to [o] late ! 
Delio. I heard so, and 

Was arm'd for't ere I came. Let us make noble 

use 
Of this great ruine; and joyne all our force 120 
To establish this yong hopefull gentleman 
In's mothers right. These wretched eminent 

things 
Leave no more fame behind 'em then should one 

107 yeildes. Dyce, yield. 



384 ®t)e 2E>utcl^e0flfr of ^alffe [actv. 

Fall in a frost and leave his print in snow : i 

As soone as the sun shines, it ever melts, lai 

Both forme and matter. I have ever thought 
Nature doth nothing so great for great men 
As when she's pleas'd to make them lords of 

truth : 
" Integrity of life is fames best friend^ 
Which nobely^ beyond deaths shall crown the end, 13Q 

Exeunt. 



FINIS. 



j^otejs to ti^e ^ml^m of ^alf^ 

For tie meaning of singU words see tie Glossary. 

21 1. George Harding. Thirteenth Lord Berkeley (i6oi- 
58). 

213, 20. Poeta & Chron. Middleton was made city chro- 
nologer in 1620. 

214, 3. How 'ere . . . love. However good an answer she 
had to the low estimate placed upon her affection. 

217, 2. You . . . France. According to Painter, Antonio 
had been in France after the fall of Naples. 

217, 7. quits . . . sicophants. Vaughan sees here a prob- 
able reference to the assassination of the queen-mother's favorite, 
Concini, by Louis XIII in April, 161 7. If correct, this would 
help to date the play. But cf. Introduction. 

217, 9. which. Antecedent not clear j possibly * order,' but 
probably * persons ' — persons, i. e. man, being the chief work of 
the creator. The fact that * persons ' is qualified by ' infamous,' is 
disturbing, but Webster's constructions are often untechnical. Cf 
note on 239, 97, p. 387. Vaughan suggests ' pallace,' 

217, II. princes . . . fountaine. Something like this 
Meres {^Palladis Tamia) quotes from Plutarch :' As he is more 
grievously to be punished that castes deadly poyson into a fountaine, 
then he that onely casts it in a cup : so doe they more offende, that 
corrupt the disposition of a Prince, then they that corrupt a private 
man' (1598 ed. p. 222). 

218, 18. him. The king. 

218, 22. What . . . foresee. What then they may take 
steps to prevent. 

219, 59. I . . . me. Sarcastically referring to the Cardinal's 
curt dismissal. 

220, 65. rewards . . . dogges. Cf JV. D. iv, iii, 
118. * Past service, past reward' (Tofte's Ariosto, Sat. 11). 

220, 68. geometry . . . supportation. The image of 



386 jliotesf 

* geometry ' presumably implies that a man on crutches looks like 
a pair of compasses. 

220, 77. fellow . . . yeares. To have been seven years. 

220, 80. Gaston de Foux. Due de Nemours. Painter 
( Palace of Pleasure, 1 5 6 7 edition of the ' ' Second Tome " ) , trans- 
lating Belle-Forest's paraphrase (1565) of Bandello, remarks that 

* the French vnder leadinge of that notable Capitayne Gaston de Foix, 
vanquished the force of Spayne and Naples at the Journey of Ra- 
uenna in the time of the French Kynge called Lewes the tvirelfth.' 
The battle of Ravenna was fought in 1 5 1 2 ; Naples was ' recov- 
ered ' in 1 501, when Gaston was twelve years old. Webster either 
confuses Naples the city and Naples the power, or else did not know 
that Gaston was too young to have had a hand in the 1501 * recov- 
ery.' Though Painter, following Belle-Forest, places the action of 
the story after Ravenna, the birth of the Duchess's first child takes 
place, according to the play, in 1504. 

221, 89. Like . . . wearing. Is like . , . which do, etc. 
221, 95. W^ho . . . ring. A horseman bearing a spear and 

riding at full speed endeavored to carry off on the point of his spear 
an iron ring suspended from the cross-piece of a post. Antonio, as 
Ferdinand remarks later, was a * good horse-man.' Painter (f. 140 
verso, 1575 ed. ) says, * for riding and managing of greate horse, he 
had not his fellow in Italy. ' Painter also praises his skill in lute 
playing : * the most melancholike persons would forget their heaui- 
nesse, vpon hearing of his heauenly noyse. ' Webster makes no use 
of this accomplishment. 

223, 133. Pliney's opinion. * In Portugall, along the 
river Tagus, and about Lisbon, certaine it is, that when the West 
wind bloweth, the mares . . . conceive that genitall aire in steed of 
naturall seed : in such sort, as they become great withall, and quicken 
in their time, and bring forth foles as swift as the wind, but they 
live not above three yeares' (Holland's Pliny, 1601, viii, 42). 

223, 146. your foole. Nothing follows to show who this 
fool is. 

223, 152. full . . . wrinckle. Cf. the Water Poet's 
Taylors Revenge (1630 ed.), p. 145 : 

' Which act did passe, and please, and fild their iawes 
With wrinkled laughter, and with good applause.' 

Besides applying to laughter, the expression means full of tricks. 



^Ott& 387 

224, 173. five . . . tennis. Cf. fT. D. n, i, 181, note, 
p. 189. 

225, 186. bestow bribes. Cf. Tofte's Ariosto, Sat. Ill: 

' Another that's as vile as is the best. 
Tiers out his daies with labour and unrest: 
Till he have got a Miter in such fashion. 
As shames himselfe, his kinne and all his nation.' 

226,210. Cast . . .figure. Struck from one die. There 
is no astrological meaning in the expression. 

227, 230. She . . . come. In A Monumental Columme 
(161 3), Webster says of Prince Henry that his 'beams' shall 
* Stain the time past and light the time to come ' (1. 278). 

227,231. You . . . gallery. This seems sufficient war- 
rant for a change of scene later when Antonio attends the Duchess. 

229, 255. There *S . . . face. Vopel sees a parallel in 
Macbeth^ i, iv, 11. 

232, 300. dormouse. Cf. D. M. in, i, 22. 

232, 301. Feed. . . dish. Eat at a lord's table. 

233, 8. Labans sheepe. Cf. Gen. xxx, 31-42. 

233, II. I'll , . . marry. The Duchess has already sent 
for Antonio. 

234, 16. honney-dew . . . deadly. Samuel Sheppard, 

who does not hesitate to draw freely on Webster's plays for his 
Epigrams (1651), remarks that ' hony badly still'd will poyson 
be' {Ep. II, 6). 

234, 23 • Vulcans engine. The net in which Mars and 
Venus were taken. 

235, 32- executed . . . celibrated. Because not being 
in facie ecclesia they were deprived of the religious ceremony : the 
church, however, recognized the legality of such spousals. 

236, 57. winck'd . . . chose. Chose blindly. 

239, 97. In . . . sheete. In a shroud, because her hus- 
band was dead. Antonio's answer is another instance of Webster's 
way of referring to the simple part of a compound thought, * a 
cople' refers to ' sheete,' not to ' winding sheete.' So also i, i, 9 
(probably) ; this present scene, 1. 156 j v, v, 70 j fV. D. iv, iii, 
62. 

239, 98. St. Winfrid. St. Boniface, of the eighth century. 



388 jpotesf 

born in Devonshire, died in Germany, the scene of his missionary 
labors. Thayer, following Dyce's very probable reading, * St. Wini- 
fred,' gives a note upon that virgin saint, who repulsed her ardent 
lover, Cradocus. 

241, 138. You . . . selfe. You would be a poor salesman 
of yourself j you conceal your merits : city tradesmen darken their 
shops (this was a common trick — cf. JVestivard Hoe^ ij i) to hide 
faults. 

241, 144. progresse. There is noble praise in this word : 
' make a royal journey. ' 

243, 171. Quietus est. The technical term for indicating 
that the accounts have been examined and found correct. Cf. 
D. M. Ill, ii, 187; Monumental Columme, 218: 

' And in such joy did all his senses steep. 
As great accountants, troubled much in mind. 
When they hear news of their quietus sign'd.' 

243, 1 72^- I . . . them. This sentence also occurs in Ap- 
pius and Virginia, i, i. 

243, 183. Per . . . present!. The de has been restored 
to the phrase, because the term was so familiar that the chances 
that Webster (rather than the printer) made a slip are very 
slight. The Duchess's notion of the legality of such a marriage is 
entirely correct. It is laid down in the Decretals (A. D. 1230) 
of Gregory IX (Strasburg, 1470?) L. iiij, p. 5, verso, that if 
between a man and woman there pass a common consent in words 
{^de presenti) of present time, utroque dicente ego accipio te in meant 
et ego te i\n\ meum, the marriage holds. The present tense, * I 
take you for my wife,' etc., is sharply discriminated from ' I will 
take,' etc. i^per 'verba de futuro), the latter form amounting only 
to a promise and not to a consent. Henry Swinburne, in A Trea- 
tise of Spousal s (1686), notes that persons who have contracted de 
presenti marriages ' cannot by any agreement dissolve those spousals ' 
(p. 13), although (p. 9) he previously declares that matrimony 
rather than spousals is the true name for the contract. So in John 
Cooke's Greene'' s Tu Sluoque (1614, sig. L), Spendall proposes a 
clandestine marriage to the widow Raysby : 

* Then set your hand to this, nay tis a contract 
Strong and sufficient, and will hold in Lawe.' 



0OttfSi 389 

Strype, in his Memorials of Thomas Cranmer (1694), p. 251, says 
that Cranmer told Henry VIII that ' he and his authours were of 
opinion that matrimony contracted per -verba de prasenti was perfect 
matrimony before God.' Vittoria's marriage to Bracciano was of 
this form. The Council of Trent (1563) required a marriage to 
be in facie ecclesia^ but this did not apply to England. The law of 
Webster's time regarding such marriages remained valid until Lord 
Harwicke's Act of 1753. 

244, 186. sphears . . . musique. One of the innum- 
erable references to the motion and music of the celestial spheres of 
the Ptolemaic system. * Still ' ( 187) means ' continuously.' 

244, 189. palmes . . . devided. Dyce points out the 

same image in Glapthorne's Argalus and Parthenia (1639) : 

' Grown likes Palmes, 
That do with amorous mixture twine their boughes 
Into a league-union, and so florish 
Old in each others armes.' 

244, 204. Alexander . . . Lodowicke. Koeppel 

{^MUnchener Beitrage, xi, 150) notes parallel references in Dekker's 
Satiromastix (1602) and Cooke's Greened Tu ^oijue (161^), 
as also in the whole story of Ferrers and Valladaura in Hey wood's 
A Challenge for Beautie (1636). The story seems to have been 
familiar enough at the time : Dyce mentions a play (unprinted) on 
the subject, by Martin Slaughter, noted in Henslowe's Diary, 
p. 79 J and the ballad of ' The Two Faithful Friends, the pleasant 
History of Alexander and Lodwicke, who were so like one another, 
that none could know them asunder 5 wherein is declared how 
Lodwicke married the Princesse of Hungaria, in Alexander's name, 
and how each night he layd a naked sword betweene him and the 
Princesse, because he would not wrong his friend.' For a ballad 
cf. Evans's Coll, ed. 18 10, i, 77. 

245, 208. Whether . . . pitty. This beautiful speech of 
Cariola's illustrates the difficulty of rendering Webster in trans- 
lation. Following are the versions of Lafond and of Graf Schack : 
* (^uel est le plus magnanime de son esprit ou de son coeur, je n'en 
sais rien j mais je vois la une terrible folie. — Pauvre femme ! elle 
a droit a toute ma pitie ! ' 

— ' Ob in ihr der Geist der Grosse, 

Ob der des Weibes herrscht, nicht weiss ich es. 

Doch arge ToUheit ist 's ; die arme Fiirstin ! ' 



390 il^otes; 

246, 5. night-cap . . . largely. The night-cap was 
sometimes worn in the day, instead of a wig. John Taylor, in The 
Praise of Cleane Linnen (1630 ed. ), remarks : 

' A day worne Night-cap in our Common-wealth 
Doth shew the wearer is not well in health,' — 

and goes on to jest at those who wear them for trivial diseases. 

247, 21. roaring-boy es . . . valiant. The swaggering 
bullies, for all their talk, do not fare sumptuously, and their valor 
is hunger, not courage. 

247, 28. prime night-caps. Hazlitt, without quotation 
of authority, gives this as a term for bullies. Farmer and Henley 
{^Slang and its Analogues^ explain the word as * thieves working 
by night.' Vaughan thinks that it refers to lawyers. Another in- 
stance of Webster's use of the word {^De'viP s Laiv-Case, 11, i) does 
not make the meaning certain. 

247, 43. there's . . . plastique. There's speech appro- 
priate to your deserts, cheap plaster in return for your face-modelling. 
Cf. Mercutio's greeting (i?. and y. 11, iv, 46) : ' Signior Romeo, 
bon jour ! there's a French salutation to your French slop.' Mer- 
cutio's teasing of the Nurse in the same scene may have given Web- 
ster a suggestion for this scene. 

248, 48. witch-craft . . . ordure. The source of this 
abominable description has hitherto been overlooked : it is in Tofte's 
Ariosto^s Satyres (1608), the fourth satire, sig. I2. 

' Knew Herculan but where those lips of his, 
He layeth when his Lidia he doth kisse. 
He would disdaine and loath himselfe as much, 
As if the loathsom'st ordure he did touch. 
He knowes not, did he know it he would spewe. 
That paintings made with spettle of a lewe . . . 
Little thinks he that with the filthy doung, 
Of their small circumcised children young. 
The fat of hideous serpents, spaune of snakes, 
Which slaues from out their poisonous bodies takes. . . . 
Making that unguent, which who buies to vse, 
Buies hell withall, and heauen doth refuse.' 

248, 51. pidgeon . . . plague. The English Hustuife 
( 1 6 1 5 ) advises ' if you be infected with the plague ' to apply hot 
bricks to the feet, * then to the same apply a liue Pidgeon cut in 
two parts.' And more explicitly in The Secrets of the re-verend 



il^otesf 391 

Maister Alexis of Piemont (tr. Wm, Ward, 1595), p. 37, one 
finds : ' Incontinent after this you must take a Pigeon, and cut him 
in the mids quicke. Feathers and all, laie him to the sore warme 
as he is, and let him lie on it, untill that part of the pigeon be 
waxen, and become greene . . . then take it of, and you shall see, 
that out of the pigeon will come a greene water, which is all the 
venom that was in it. ' This remedy, in all probability, is of the 
kind referred to in W.D. v, iii, 60. 

248, 69. S'winish meazeall. The * measle ' is a disease 
affecting swine. Cf Cent. Diet. 

249, 77. wels . . . Leuca. The baths at Lucca were fa- 
mous at this time. Cf von Hubner's Sixtus V (Eng. tr. ), i, 88, 
123-124 ; and the description of the baths at della Ville, a few 
miles from Lucca, as seen by Montaigne in his Italian journey, 
1580 (Hazlitt's tr. pp. 596-607, 615, 618). 

249, 80. fins . . . blew. So Sycorax, the ' blue-eyed hag ' 
( Tempesty i, ii, 269), the blue discoloration being regarded as a sign 
of pregnancy. 

249, 83. loose-bodied gowne. Montaigne (Hazlitt's 
tr. p. 574) says of the Roman gown : 'but their custom of hav- 
ing the waist exceeding loose gives them all the appearance of being 
with child.' 

249, 85. apricocks. Stow [Annales, 163 1, p. 1038) re- 
marks that ' Apricocks, Mellycatons, Musk-millions and Tobacco, 
came into England about the 20. yeare of gueene Elizabeth.' 

250, loi. This . . . melancholly. Cf. King yoAn, iv, 
i, 14-16. 

251, III. You . . . light. So in TAe De-viPs Law-Case, 
v, V, 21, 22 : 

' While they aspire to do themselves most right. 
The devil, that rules i' the air, hangs in their light.' 

251, 113. lord . . . ascendant. The ascendant is that sign 
of the Zodiac arising above the horizon at any given moment. A 
planet within the house of the ascendant (from five degrees above 
to twenty-five degrees below the horizon) is the lord of the ascen- 
dant. Figuratively, to be enjoying good fortune. 

251. Enter . . . Ladies. That others than Cariola are 
indicated is suggested by Delio's reference to * those ladies,' 1. 183. 



392 i^ote0 

252, 135. lymmon pils. It is not certain whether this 
means lemon pills or peels. No reference to lemon pills comes 
easily to hand, but in the Secrets of Alexis (1595), p. 62, ' orenge 
pilles ' are spoken of. On the other hand, ' peels ' was sometimes 
spelled * pills ' (cf. Moufet's Health' s Impro-vement^ 1655, p. 201), 
and lemon juice and peel were advised for sweetening the breath 
(Moufet, p. 206). 

253, 161, ripen them. Pliny (xv, xviii) refers to winter 
figs thus ripened. 

255> 185. mid-wife. Is not this the Old Lady, who with- 
out any obvious dramatic reason appeared at the beginning of this 
scene, and who, at the beginning of the following scene, comes on 
in haste ? 

256, 6. glasse-house. Cf. fF. D. i, ii, 154, note, p. 187. 

256, 14. orrenge . . . altogether. Moryson [Itine- 
rary, 1 61 7), notes that * the Orange trees at one time have ripe 
and greene fruites and buds, and are greene in winter, giving at that 
dead time a pleasant remembrance of Sommer. ' Wm. Harrison 
(Holinshed's Chronicles, 1597) speaks of oranges growing in Eng- 
land. Cf. Mon. Col. 45, 46. 

257j 34- ForoboSCO. Mentioned in the dramatis per- 
sonsB of AB, but no speaking part is definitely assigned to him in 
the text, and no other reference than in this line is made to him. 

259, 62. Each . . . chamber. To prevent his knowing 
of the birth of the child. 

259, 69. wood-yard. Spoken in contempt. Cf. n, v, 43. 

260, 85. whole man. Cf. * full man,' fV. D. i, i, 44. 

260, 92. set . . . nativitie. Make a horoscope. 

261, 5. have part. Learn something. 

261, 14. heard . . . noyce. Cf. Macbeth, 11,11, i<^-zo. 

262, 32. Spanish figge. Cf. fV. D. iv, ii, 61. 

263, 41. copy . . . to *t. Bosola's speech is tantamount 
to saying * As I am innocent, 1 wiU sign an statement you have 
made concerning the jewels. ' 

263, 42. bleedes . . . ominous. Nash, The Terrors of 
the Night, 1594, sig. D, verso, — * if his nose bleede, some of his 
kinsfolkes is dead.* 

263,45. wrought , . . name. * Wrote,' the reading of 



#otefi; 393 

C, followed by Dyce and others, is a quite untenable emendation, 
based on the assumption that the blood falls on the document, 
which in any event does not and must not contain letters written 
' for my name. ' The reference is undoubtedly to the letters 
' wrought ' upon his handkerchief. 

264,55. falce-friend. The * dark lanthorn.' 
264, 56. childes nativitie. This nativity is drawn up 
properly. ^ohnSezrles,'m ^n Ep/iemerisyor nine yeeres . . . 1600 
. . . idi^f p. 177, notes these steps in ' making of a nativitie ' : 
verifying the ascendant, the degree of the ascendant, the lord of 
the year, whether the lord of the nativity is a place of fortune or 
'infortune,' and the degree of the 'luminaries next precedent,* 
The lord of the first house (Saturn, an evil planet) is 'combust ' 
when within fifteen degrees of Sol ; Mars is also an evil planet} 
a * human signe ' is one of the signs of the Zodiac which has a 
human form, as Virgo, Aquarius ; the first house signifies body, 
head, face, and the eighth house signifies kind of death (Searles) j 
catera^ etc. , the rest not considered, — as if the influence of other 
planets could be of little importance, when the horoscope was so 
ominous. It does not appear that Antonio makes any search for 
this lost nativity. 

266, 16. fantastique glasse. 1609 is the approximate 
date of the invention of Galileo's telescope. 

268, 46. my . . . suitors. This is the first mention of 
the relationship. 

269, 59. mine . . . allowance. What I myself will 

allow you. 

269, 66. Perswade . . . cullisses. Dyce notes that 
' pieces of gold ' are advised as ingredients, by ' old receipt-books.* 

270, I. dig'd . . . man-drake. Madness was the por- 
tion, according to the old and wide-spread superstition, of those 
who pulled up mandrakes, cf. e.g. R. and y. iv, iii, 47-48). But 
Pliny (xxv, iii) tells how to dig them with safety : to have the 
wind at one's back, to make three circles around the plant, and to 
pull it up while facing the west. To hear the shriek which the 
mandrake was supposed to give upon being uprooted was also om- 
inous (cf. TAe Atheist'' s Tragedy, 161 1, v, i, 56). 

270, 3. loose . . . hilts. Incontinent. Spoken also of a 
man ( Crossing of Proverbsy B. N. 1 6 1 6 ) . 



394 ipotesf 

271, 12. Rubarbe. Cf. W. D. v, i, 223, note, p. 200. 

272, 32. women's . . . left-side. Vaughan, not very 
convincingly, quotes Ecclesiastes x, 2. 

273» 43- quoit . . . barre. Strutt [Games^ n, ii, 7) 
notes that although an honorable sport in the sixteenth century, 
throwing the sledge or bar had in the seventeenth century become a 
lower class amusement. 

275, 78. scorpions . . . whips. Cf. TF. D. n, i, 243. 

275> 79- general! ecclipse. Total eclipse, probably. 

278, 41. Count Malateste. Not mentioned in Painter. 

278, 42. meere . . . him. Repeated (not quite literally) 
in Dcvirs Laiv-Case, 11, i. 

278, 49. Pasquils paper-bullets. Pasquinades, /. e. 
lampoons, affixed to a mutilated statue in Rome, popularly called 
by the name of Pasquin, a sharp-tongued cobbler (?) who lived in 
the fifteenth century. * Paper bullets ' occurs in MucA Ado, n, 
iii, 249. 

279> 56. guilt . . . cultures. Cf. Carew's Feminine 
Honour (one of ' four Songs by way of Chorus' at an entertain- 
ment of the king and queen ( 1 640 ed. ) : 

'In what esteeme did the Gods hold 
Faire Innocence, and the chaste bed. 

When scandall'd vertue might be bold 
Bare-foot, upon sharpe cultures, spread 

O're burning coles, to march yet feeie 

Nor scorching fire nor piercing Steele ? ' 

280, 67. pow^re . . . no. Kiesow sees here a resemblance 
to Othello, I, i, 172 : ' Is there not charms,' etc. 

281, 84. girdle . . . world. Cf. Midsummer-Night'' s 
Dream, ii, i, 1 7 5. 

282, 5. noble . . . knee. Cf. Tofte's Ariosto, Sat. v : 

' Whilst like to peassants, noblemen not dare 
To come to him ... 
But they must cap and crouch.' 

Cf. TV. D. IV, iv, 90. 

282, 7. lord . . . misse-rule. * A master of merry dis- 
ports ' (Stow, Survey of London), or mock lord who was in charge 
of Christmas revels. 

283, 27. Anaxarete . . . marble. Because she refiased 
the love of Iphis, who thereupon hanged himself. 



iliotesi 395 

285, 60. Powder . . . arras. Cf. Z). M. iv, H, 196. 

292, 177. engenuous wheeles. Man 'carries certaine 
Watches with Larums about him, that are euer striking : for all 
the Enginous Wheeles of the Soule are continually going. ' Dekker, 
Se-ven Deadly Sins of London : Sloth (1606). 

292, 179. TasSO calls. In Jerusalem Deli'vered, ii, 22 
(Dyce). 

293, 186. audit . . . Quietus. Cf. D. M. i, ii, 171, 
note, p. 388. 

293, 190. let him. It is not obvious whether this means 
* stop him,' or * let him go.' 

294, 215. pigges . . . gaping. Dressed for the table, 
with an apple in its mouth : offensive, as pork, to Jews. 

294, 219. you . . . sake. Had you been his steward, in- 
stead of he yours, you would have been better off. 

295, 229. chippings . . . chaine. It was with these 
same chippings (crusts, crumbs) that Sir Toby bade Malvolio go rub 
his chain, the token of stewardship, 

296,247. Pluto. Properly Plutus. Bacon tells the same fa- 
ble in his essay. Of Riches. 

297, 264. herald . . . pedegrees. One of the college 
of heralds, which passed upon armorial matters, such as the ' coates ' 
of arms, of 1. 303. 

299, 307- weare . . . heart. Cf. Hamlet^ in, ii, 77. 
299,312. I. . . pilgrimage. This was the Duchess's idea 

in Bandello, the maid's in Belle-Forest and Painter. 

299,313- Loretto. Moryson (/««ertfry, 1 617) visited Lo- 
retto, which contained the house in which the Virgin Mary was 
born, transported by angels to Slavonia from the Holy Land in 1291 , 
and three years later to Loretto : * there is incredible concourse to 
this place from all parts professing the Roman religion.' Montaigne 
gives an interesting description of Loretto in his Journey into Italy 
(Hazlitt tr. 1842, pp. 588-599). All writers note the magni- 
ficence of the shrine and the immense number of offerings ( cf. in, 
iv, I ) : it was a sixteenth and seventeenth century Lourdes. 

300, 320. Leuca. Lucca. Cf. note on 249, 76, p. 391. 
300, 320. Spaw. Spa, more noted later than in Webster's 

time. 



396 i|iote0 

301, 4. Pescara . . . Lanoy. Francis I was defeated at 
Pavia in 1525 (an anachronism in the play) by Pescara, the Con- 
stable Bourbon, and the viceroy of Naples, Charles de Lannoy, to 
the last-named of whom the king surrendered. 

302, 18. City Chronicle. Not clear. Perhaps Stow' s-^n- 
nah is meant. Thomas Middleton was made City Chronologer in 
1620, an office implying a Chronicle, but the City records were not 
public enough to warrant this allusion. Richard Grafton's Chroni- 
cle at Large was republished in 1 6 1 1 . 

302, 20. fight . . . booke. The book was Vincentio Sa-vi- 
olo his Practise (1594/5). 

302, 22. critical!. In astrology, days that were determina- 
tive. 

302, 26. taking. Being taken. 

303* 3^- He . . . court. He is a mere ornamental trapping 
that comes into service only when the court makes a journey. 
303* 37- Foxes . . . devided. Cf. Judges xv, 4. 

303, 40. fantasticall scholler. Webster's gibe against 
pedantry ends in a note of irony : shortsightedness seeks to be named 
speculative. For * fantastical,' cf. Puttenham's Arte of Poesie 
(1589) I, viii, Romeo and Juliet^ 11, iv, 30, Milton's Vacation Ex- 
ercise^ 20. The adjective seems to cover absurdity of all kinds, from 
dress to wits. 

306, 7. Armes, etc. The authorship of this song is not 
known. 

307, 28. determine of. This usage of the word, * limiting 
the freedom of a person, is apparently not recorded. 

308, 7. physitians . . . patients. Cf. Timon of Athens, 
III, iii, II (Dyce). 

311,47. this. The letter. 

311,62. out of frame. Out of order. 

312, 73. Man . . . bruiz'd. Cf. TV. D. i, i, 48. 

313, 90. sound. As with a plummet. 

315, 116. counterfeit face. The mask worn by Bosola. 

315, 126. mixe . . . floods. Dyce notes the parallel in 
2 Henry IV, m, ii, 132. 

319, 35. national! . . . equall. The same idea in nearly 
the same words occurs in De'viPs Laiv-Case, iv, ii. 



i^ttfi 397 

319, 41. too . . . lig^ht. Probably 'too conspicuous': so 
Hamlet (i, ii, 67) : * I am too much i' the sun.' But cf. Variorum 
Hamlet vol. i, p. 34. 

320, 52. Hah I lights ! In his translation of this scene, Me- 
zieres inserts a stage-direction after ' travell,' Oniclaire tout a coup le 
theatre ; after which the Duchess cries, ^/t ! des lumieres, and then 
perceives the hand to be a dead man's. This is ingenious and effec- 
tive, but it is out of keeping w^ith Elizabethan conditions. The cry 
of * Lights ! ' follows the discovery of the horror. The * artificiall 
figures of Antonio and his children ' presumably deceive the specta- 
tors as well as the Duchess. 

320, 62. picture . . .needle. The familiar charm of mak- 
ing a wax figure in the shape of the one upon whom the conjura- 
tion is to fall. Cf Rossetti's Sister Helen. 

321, 70. Portia . . . COales. Portia's suicide, by placing 
burning coals in her mouth, is told briefly in Plutarch's life of 
Brutus. Cf. Julius Casar, iv, iii, 155. 

322, 89. What . . . you ? Why does the servant enter 
and when does he leave ? Can Cariola be intended ? Of the ef- 
fectiveness of the moment there is no question. 

324, 125. full . . . moone. Probably alluding to the no- 
tion that madness varied with the changes of the moon. 

326, 13. robin . . . cages. Again Tofte's Ariosto, Sat. 
Ill : 

' The cage is to the Nightinglale (sic) a hell. 
The Thrush and Black-bird both do loue it well ; 
The Robin red-brest rob'd of libertie, 
Growes sad and dies with inward melancholy.' 

328, 50. taylor . . . fashion. In T/ie Se-ven Deadly 
Sins of London (1606), Dekker inveighs against the ' apishness ' 
of the English in following fashions of all countries at once. 

328, 55. knave . . . graine. A play upon the two mean- 
ings of grain, — corn and dye. Cf. Glossary. 

328. Enter Madmen. Although eight are mentioned, 
only four have speaking parts, the astrologer, the lawyer, the priest, 
and the doctor. 

329, 74. perspective. Cf. TF. D. i, ii, 1 11, note, p. 187. 
329, 78. glasse-house. Cf. TV. D. i, ii, 154, note, 

p. 187. 



398 j]iOtefif 

329, 83. I . . . tithe. Cf. the thirty-second of the Cent 
Nou-vel/es Nowvelles. 

329, 92. wood cockes . . . braines. The woodcock 

was supposed to be brainless. 

329, 95. turn'd Turke. Turned cruel (W. J. Craig) ; 
but perhaps, turned infidel. 

329, 96. Helvetian translation. The English transla- 
tion of the Bible, printed at Geneva in 1560. This reference seems 
to suggest that the play was written at a time when the merit of 
respective versions was a matter of current interest. The Douay 
version is of 1609-10, the King James version 161 1. 

330, 103. If . . . glasse. The reference is perhaps to a 
magic glass or crystal ; or to a process of divination by looking in a 
bottle of water. Cf. Oxford Dictionary sub Gastromancy. 

332, 144. mouse . . . eare. A frequently occurring image. 
Mr. J. W. Craig notes it in Demandes ioyeuses en manilre de quolibefz 
( ? 1 520) : * Demande. ^ui est ce qui one ne fut ne iamais ne sera. 
Responce. Cest le nid dune souris en loreille dung chat. ' So Hey- 
wood (1546); and Lyly (^Euphues and his England, p. 233, Ar- 
ber ; Gallathea, iv, i, 45), as Mr. Warwick Bond notes. 

332, 150. Glories . . . light. Cf. fF. D. v, i, 43. 

333, 179. common bell-man. Robert Dowe in 1605 estab- 
lished a fund to provide that the bellman of St. Sepulchre's should 
deliver a solemn exhortation to condemned prisoners in Newgate, 
the night before execution. Cf. note by Mr. J. W. Hales in 
Athenaum, 13 Sept. 1902. 

334, 184. Hearke, etc. Nothing tells us whether this was 
spoken or sung. Bosola says later, * Remoove that noyse,' which 
may refer to musicians, although more probably to Cariola. 

334, 185. whistler shrill. Dyce notes Spenser, F. ^ 11, 
xii, 36: 

' The whistler shrill, that whoso heares doth dy.' 

335, 216. death . . . you. This echoes the situation in 
W. D. V, vi, 223. 

337, 244. strangle . . . children. Perhaps this order was 
carried out as Dyce's stage direction indicates, but it is also pos- 
sible that the children did not appear until Bosola (drawing a cur- 
tain ?) shows their bodies. 



j^otes; 399 

337) *5o- come . . . answere. Stand trial. 
337> ^54- Here's . . . ring. The noose, 
338, 261. Let . . . still. The Duchess's body. 

338, 267. element . . . heavens. Mr. Craig points out 
the same idea in Nash's yacke Wilton (1594.): 'Water powred 
forth sinkes downe quietly into the earth, but bloud spilt on the 
ground sprinkles up to the firmanent.' (Mr. Gosse's reprint, 
p. 203). 

339, 288. Onely . . . COnfesse. I must confess that my 
sole reason was. 

340, 294. actor . . . part. It was Burbadge himself who 
had these words to speak. 

341,315. WOlfe . . . murther. Dyce notes that it was a 
common superstition that wolves dug up the bodies of murdered 
men. Cf. the dirge in W. D. v, iv. 

342, 327. two chain'd-bullets. The parallel passage in 
Heywood's A Challenge for Beautie, cited by Koeppel {^Munch. 
Beit, xi, 150), was long before noted by Dyce : 

*• My friend and I 
Like two chain-bullets, side by side, will fly 
Thorow the jawes of death.' 

342, 342. painted honour. His disguise. 

342, 346. I . . . Europe. Much in the vein of Ariosto's 
third Satire. 

342, 347. She Stirres. The re-awakening is as obviously 
reminiscent of Othello , as Ferdinand's repudiation of Bosola is of 
King "John. 

343) 353- pitty . . . pitty. Pity, leading him to cry for 
help, would be merciless, because those coming would complete the 
murder. 

345, II. meane . . . living. Cf M. of V. iv, i, 376. 

346, 19. St. Bennet. St. Benedict, founder of the order of 
Benedictines, circa 530. 

347) 34- doubly . . . greater. Bis dat qui cito dat. 

Seneca. 

349, 6. licanthropia. Lycanthropy is discussed in Scot's 
Disco'verie of Witchcraft^ v, ch. I, 6 (1584), and Pliny (vin, 
xxii) refers to it ; but the cases Webster mentions Dyce quotes from 



400 ^Ott$ 

Goulart's Histoires admirab/es ( 1 606 ) . Dyce overlooked E. Grime- 
ston's 1607 translation of Goulart, from which the following may 
be quoted (p. 386) : ' For there be Licanthropes in whom the mel- 
ancholike humor doth so rule, as they imagine themselues to be 
transformed into Wolues . . . and all night doe nothing but runne 
into Churche-yardes, and about graues . . . one of these melan- 
cholike Licanthropes . . . carried then vpon his shoulders the whole 
thigh and the legge of a dead man. Beeing carefully looked vnto, 
hee was cured of this disease.' And of another case (p. 387), 'a 
Countri-man neere vnto Pauia, in the yeare 1541 . . . being 
with great difficultie taken, hee did constantlye affirme that he was 
a Wolfe, and that there was no other difference, but that Wolues 
were commonlie hayrie without, and hee was betwixt the skinne 
and the flesh. Some (too barbarous and cruell Wolues in effect) 
desiring to trie the truth thereof, gaue him manie wounds vpon 
the armes and legges : but knowing their owne error, and the inno- 
cencie of the poore melancholie man, they committed him to the 
Surgions to cure, in whose hands hee dyed within fewe dayes after. ' 
350, 25. Paracelsus (1493-1541). Still much quoted in 
Webster's time. 

352, 59. what . . . nothing. Cf. OtMIo, v, i, 302. 
353» 76- fetch . . . friske. Cut a caper. 

353, 82. Barber -Chyrurgeons hall. In Monkwell 
street, some distance from Blackfriars. ' To have him to Barber 
Surgeons Hall there to anatomize him.' Dekker, yi Knights 
Conjuring (1607), sig. C3. 

357> 153- way . . . trace. Plan to follow. 

357, 165. your pistoll. A figure of speech, or perhaps 
Julia in play threatened Bosola with an actual weapon. Bosola says 
'I'll disarm you.' Cf. note on 1. 300 below. 

357> 170- Compare. . .miracle. Love being blind, her 
eyes were no better than his form. 

360, 222. have . . . you. Have it immediately. 

362, 261. triall . . . constancy. So Portia in C^wr, n, 
i, 299. 

363, 277. how . . . this. A figure drawn from the settling 
of a liquid, hence its clarifying ; as if the Cardinal now saw the situ- 
ation more clearly. 



365, 300. Who . . . here. The Cardinal's yielding perhaps 
indicates that Bosola displayed a weapon, — possibly the pistol of 
1. 165. 

367, 345- Securitie . . . hell. Cf. Hecate's song in 
Macbeth^ in, v, 32. 

368. Scena. III. The scene is Milan, but the Duchess's 
grave was probably elsewhere. Mr. Craig makes note of the some- 
what similar echo-scene in The Hog hath Lost his Pearly acted in 
1 61 2-1 3 (Hazl. Dods. xi, ^Jj). The lyrical quality of the pre- 
sent scene strikingly takes the place of the ' mournful song ' which, 
according to Belle-Forest and Painter, Antonio sings at this point 
in the story. 

371, 54. his. The Cardinal's. 

373, 28. I . . . heart. Cf. Hamlet^ in, iii, 38. 

374, 46. Could . . . pardon. Could I gain his hearing 
when he is in a religious mood, he might pardon me. 

375> 51- A . . . selfe. A difficult speech, probably mean- 
ing : I only need your favor of the death-stroke to appear to the 
eye the wretched thing that I am already in spirit. 

375, 57. smother . . , pitty. Hold your noise (addressed 
to the servant^. 

375> 67- in sadnes. In reality. 

378, 26. dukedome . . . rescew. Cf. Rick. Ill, v, iv, 7. 

380, 56. honour . . . armes. Martial salute. 

380, 62. Sorrow . . . sin. Cf. W. D. v, iv, 27. 

381, 70. toothache . . . out. The same construction, 
not unusual in Webster, is in the Crossing of Pro'verhs ( 1 6 1 6 ) : 
* ^ What is good for the tooth-ache ? A. Pull it out.' 

381, 77. I . . . credit. I will do incredible things. 

382, 1 01. thing . . . blood. Dyce compares Corio/anus, 11, 
ii, 112. 

383, 117. Sonne . . . heire. According to the spirit of 
Webster's originals, it would seem to be the son of the Duchess by 
her first husband, who inherits the duchy. 



The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated. 

I. TEXTS. 

This list includes separate editions, adaptations, the issues in col- 
lecti-ve editions of Webster, and ivith the plays of other dramatists. 

A. THE WHITE DEVIL. 

l6l2, 4°. The White Divel ... for Thomas Archer. 
[See fac -simile of title page, p. I. British Museum, C. 34. e. 
41. Pp. AjA4 omitted; text occupies pp. B-M2 verso.] 

1 63 1, 4°. The White Devil, Or, The Tragedy of Paulo 
Giordano Vrsini, Duke of Brachiano, With The Life, and 
Death, of Vittoria Corombona, the Famous Venetian Cur- 
tizan. As it hath bin diuers times Acted, by the Queenes 
Maiesties seruants, at the Phoenix, in Drury Lane. . . . Written 
by lohn Webster. . . . Printed by I. N. for Hugh Perry. . . . 
[Reprinted from the preceding.] 

1665, 4°. The White Devil, or, Vittoria Corombona, 
A Lady of Venice. A Tragedy. By John Webster. Acted 
(formerly by Her Majesties Servants) at the Phrenix in Drury 
Lane ; And At This Present (by His now Majesties) at the The- 
atre Royal. . . . Printed by G. Miller for John Playfere . . . 
and William Crooke. . . . [Reprinted from preceding. Con- 
tains, following address To Reader, a list of books printed for 
Crooke, and a list printed for '* Pleyfere."] 

1672, 4°. Vittoria Corombona, Or, The White Devil. A 
Tragedy. By J. Webster. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal, By 
His Majesties Servants. Printed for William Crooke . . . [Re- 
printed from the preceding.] 



1707. Injur'd Love : Or, The Cruel Husband. A 
Tragedy. Design' d to be Acted at the Theatre Royal. Written by 
Mr. N[ahum]. Tate, Author of the Tragedy call'd King Lear. 
Richard Wellington. [A version of The White De-vil as impu- 
dent as Theobald's version of The Duchess is respectful.] 

1744. The White Devil. A Select Collection of Old Plays, 
vol. Ill, pp. 313-412, Dodsley. [No notes.] 

1780. The White Devil. A Select Collection of Old 
Plays, The Second Edition . . . With Notes ... by Isaac 
Reed, vol. vi, pp. 233-374, Dodsley. 

1810. The White Devil. The Ancient British Drama, 
vol. HI, pp. 1-46. William Miller. [Edited by Sir Walter 
Scott. Notes. ] 

1 825. The White Devil. A Select Collection of Old Plays. 
Notes by Reed, Octavius Gilchrist, and the editor [Collier], vol. 
VI, pp. 203-326, Septimius Prowett. 

1830. The White Devil. The Works of John Webster: 
Now First Collected, with Some Account of the Author, and 
Notes. By the Rev. Alexander Dyce. Four volumes, vol. i, 
Pickering. 

1857. The White Devil. In a revised one-volume edition 
of the preceding, pp. 1-5 1, Moxon. 

1857. The White Devil. The Dramatic Works of John 
Webster. Edited by William Hazlitt. Four volumes. Library of 
Old Authors, vol. ii. Smith. 

1865. VlTTORIA CORROMBONA, OU LE DiABLE BlANC. 

Contemporains de Shakspeare. J. Webster ct J. Ford. Traduits 
par Ernest Lafond. Paris : Hetzel. 

[?] VlTTORIA CoROMBONA. Alt-cnglisches Theater. Her- 
ausgegeben von Robert Prolss. Two volumes. Vol. i. Leipzig : 
Bibliographisches Institut. 

1888. The White Devil. The Mermaid Series : Webster 
and Tourneur. Edited by John Addington Symonds. Vizetelly. 

B. THE DUCHESS OF MALFY. 

1623, 4°. The Tragedy of The Dvtchesse of Malfy. 
... for lohn Waterson. [See fac-simile of title page, p. 209. 



404 Bibliograpl^^ 

British Museum, 644. f. 72. A2 omitted ; text occupies pp. 
B-N4.] 

1640, 4°. The Dutchesse of Malfy. A Tragedy. As it 
was approvedly well acted at the Black-Friers, By his Majesties 
Servants. The perfect and exact Copy • . . [as above] . . . 
Printed by I. Raworth, for I. Benson . . . [Reprinted from the 
preceding. ] 

? 1660, 40. The Dutchesse of Malfy. A Tragedy . . . 
London, Printed for Robert Crofts, and are to be sold at his Shop, 
at the Crown in Chancery lane. [Circa 1660.] Price i s. Text 
occupies A2-K4 verso. F2 is marked as E2. No Dedication, gra- 
tulatory verse, or Actors' Names. A copy of this very rare edition 
was found (too late for collation) in the Harvard University Library 
as the present volume was going through the press. Not in British 
Museum or the Bodleian. 

1678, 4°. The Dutchess of Malfey : A Tragedy. As it 
is now Acteed [sic] At The Dukes Theater, Printed for D. N. 
and T. C. and are to be Sold by Simon Neale . . . [Reprinted 
from 1640 ; author's name not on title-page.] 

1708, 4°. The Unfortunate Dutchess of Malfy, Or, 
The Unnatural Brothers : A Tragedy. Now Acted at the 
Queen's Theatre in the Hay-Market, By Her Majesties Company 
of Comedians. Written by Mr. Webster. Printed for H. N. and 
are to be Sold by John Morphew . . . [Evidently printed from a 
copy of 1678, used as an acting version. A number of passages are 
omitted, and a number of lines are indicated by quotation marks to 
show omission in the acting. Excellent stage-directions.] 

1735. The Fatal Secret. A Tragedy. As it is Acted at 
the Theatre-Royal, In Covent-Garden. By Mr. [Lewis] Theo- 
bald . . . Printed for J. Watts ; and Sold by W. Feales . . . 
[Preface avows Webster's authorship.] 

1 810. The Dutchesse of Malfy. The Ancient British 
Drama, vol. iii, pp. 508-543. [See reference to W. D. 1810. 
Printed from the 1 640 edition, following it closely. No notes. ] 

1830. The Duchess of Malfi. Dyce's first edition, vol. i. 
(See reference to W. D. 1830. ) 

1 851. The Duchess of Malfi. Tallis's Acting Drama, 
Part I. Price 6<i or 12^ cents. John Tallis and Company, 



London and New York. [Webster's play, with some alterations 
in detail, and with expurgations. The changes are by R. H. 
Home. Memoir of Elinor Glyn by '*J. A. H." On inside page 
of cover is the announcement: **Just published, imperial Svo^ 
price I s. with a portrait of Miss Glyn, The Duchess of Malfi ; a 
Tragedy, in Five Acts. By John Webster, 1612." This 8vo 
is not in B. M. " 1612" is certainly a complete mistake, if it 
refers to the date of publishing. The sixpenny edition here noted is 
advertised as a pocket edition of the shilling publication.] 

1857. The Duchess of Malfi. Dyce's revised edition. 
[See reference to W. D. 1 857.] 

1857. '^"^ Duchess of Malfi. Hazlitt's edition, vol. 11. 
[See reference to W. D. 1857.] 

1858-60. Die Herzogin von Amalfi. Shakespeare's 
Zeitgenossen und ihre Werke. Friedrich von Bodenstedt. Three 
volumes, vol. i. Berlin. [The first volume is given up to Web- 
ster. The Duchess is translated, and the other plays summarized, 
with extracts. The notes are Dyce's, translated.] 

1865. La Duchesse d' Amalfi. Lafond. [See reference to 
W. D. 1865.] 

1870. The Duchess of Malfi. The Works of the British 
Dramatists, John S. Keltie, pp. 317-345. Edinburgh: Nimmo. 

? 1883. The Duchess of Malfi. By John Webster. Dicks' 
Standard Plays. No. 350. One Penny. John Dicks. [The 
British Museum copy bears the accession stamp 31 Ma 83, which 
helps to date the edition. Not the same revision as Home's, 
Tallis, 1851.] 

1888. The Duchess of Malfi. Mermaid Series. [See re- 
ference to W. D. 1888.] 

1892. The Duchess of Malfi. The Best Elizabethan Plays : 
Edited by William Roscoe Thayer. Boston: Ginn. [Expurgated.] 

1896. The Duchess of Malfi. Edited by C. Vaughan. 
The Temple Dramatists. Dent. 



4o6 llBibliograp^^ 



II. WORKS BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. 

Besides monographs and essays specially devoted to The White Devil 
and The Duchess of Malfy, this list includes such general ivorks 
on the drama and on Webster and his plays as are likely to prove 
useful to the general reader or the student. See also the memoirs and 
critical matter in the •volumes listed under Texts. 

1554- NovELLE, Matteo Bandello. Translation, 1890, 6 vols., 
Villon Society, John Payne. Amalfi story, vol. 11. 

1 565. Le Second Tome des Histoires Tragisues, F. de 
Belle- Forest. Paris. The Amalfi story is the first in the collection. 

1567- The Second Tome of the Palace of Pleasure, 
William Painter. The Duchesse of Malfi, pp. 1 69V. -195. In. 
vol. Ill, pp. 3-43, of Joseph Jacobs' ed. of The Palace of Plea- 
sure, 3 vols,, 1890. 

1586. II MISERABILE E COMPASSIONEVOLE CASO DELLA MORTE 

dell' illustrissima Signora Vittoria Accoramboni, Anony- 
mous. Brescia. 

1586. SONETTO, ET CaNZONE, FATTI NELLA MORTE DELL' 

illustriss. Sign. Vittoria Corambona, Giovanni Battista Bren- 
dola. Brescia. 

1596. HiSTORIE DEL MoNDO . . . DALl' AnNO 1580, 

Cesare Campana, pp. 1 71-172. Venice. 

1 61 8. Comedia Famosa del Mayordomo de la Duquesa de 
Amalfi, Lope de Vega Carpio, Doze Comedias, pp. 199V.-222V. 
Barcelona. 

1624. Comedia de la Venganza de la DuguESA de 
Amalfi, Diego Muxet de Solis, Comedias Humanas, y Divinas, 
Y RiMAS Morales, pp. 238-293. Brussels. 

1675. Theatrum Poetarum, Edward Phillips. Webster, 
pt. II, p. 16. 

1687. The Lives of the most Famous English Poets, 
William Winstanley. 

1 69 1. An Account of the English Dramatic Poets, 
Gerard Langbaine. Successively re-edited as The Lives of the 
Poets, by Charles Gildon, 1698; The Companion to the 



Playhouse, by David Baker, 1 764 ; as Biographia Dramatica, 
by Isaac Reed, 1782, and Stephen Jones, 18 12. 

1754. Storia della vita e geste di Sisto Quinto, Casi- 
miro Tempesti (ed. Zanelli, 2 vols. 1866, i, pp. 77-89). 
Rome. 

1808. Specimens of the English Dramatic Poets, Charles 
Lamb. Webster. 2d ed. 18 13. pp. 197-219. 

1 82 1. Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the 
Age of Elizabeth, William Hazlitt. Webster, pp. 124-135. 

1823. John Webster, Unsigned. Retrospecti-ve RevieiVy 
pp. 87-120. 

1832. Some Account of the English Stage from 1660 
to 1830, J. Genest. 10 vols. Webster, i, 55, 109, 346; x, 
16-17. 

1837. ViTTORiA AccoRAMBONi, Henri Beyle (Stendhal), 
Revue des deux Mondes ,• later in CnRONigUES et Nouvelles, 
1855, pp. 259-292. Paris. 

1839. Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 
15TH, I 6th, and 17TH Centuries, Henry Hallam. Webster, 
in (ed. 1854), pp. 122-123. 

1840. ViTTORiA AccoROMBONA, Ein Roman in fiinf Biich- 
ern. Johann Ludwig Tieck. Breslau. 

1846. Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the Plays or 
Shakespeare, John Payne Collier. 

1859. Plays AND Puritans, Charles Kingsley. Miscellanies, 
II. Webster, pp. no, iii, 11 5-1 19. 

1861 [prior to]. Chorus Vatum Anglicanorum, Joseph 
Hunter. 6 vols, in MS, British Museum, Add. MSS 24487- 
24492. 

1864. CONTEMPORAINS ET SuCCESSEURS DE ShAKESPEARE, A. 

Mezieres. Webster, pp. 216-251 (third ed. 1881). Paris. 

1865. Donna Orsina Isabella de Medici, Comtesse dc 
Bracciano, Anonymous. Paris. 

1870. ViTTORiA Accoramboni, Domenico Gnoli. Florence. 

1872. The Life and Times of Sixtus the Fifth, J. A. 
von Hiibner (tr. from French ed. 1870). 2 vols, i, pp. 195, 
228 ff. 

1875. A History of English Dramatic Literature, A. 



4o8 115ibliograpl)^ 

W. Ward, 2 vols. Revised ed., 3 vols., 1899. Webster, iii, 
51-65- 

1875. Memorials of the Guild of Merchant Taylors, 
Charles Mathew Clode. Webster items, pp. 596, 601, 611. 

1881. Thomas Adams' Sermon on The White De-vil^ 
Brinsley Nicholson, Notes and ^eries, vi, iii, p. 166. A similar 
reference by G. A. Aitken, Academy, 23 February, 1889, is made 
independently. 

1882. Geschichte des neueren Dramas, R. Prolss. 3 vols. 
Webster, 11, pp. 193-198. 

1883. Seventeenth Century Studies, Edmund Gosse j 
third edition, 1897. Webster, pp. 47-80. 

1883. Vittoria Accoramboni, John Addington Symonds, 
Italian By-ivays ; later in Studies in Italy and Greece, Second 
Series (1898 edition), pp. 88-126. 

1 885. LovEs's Graduate, John Webster (Mr. Gosse's title 
of scenes from A Cure for a Cuckold — see Life), ed. by Stephen 
Spring-Rice, introd. by Edmund Gosse. Oxford. 

1886. Geschichte des Dramas, Julius Leopold Klein, 13 
vols. English drama, vols. 12, 13. Leipsic. 

1886. John Webster, Algernon Charles Swinburne. Nine- 
teenth Century, June. 

1887. -^ History of Elizabethan Literature, George 
Saintsbury. Webster, pp. 273-279. 

1888. John Webster, C. Vopel. Dissertation. Bremen. 
1890. Appius und Virginia in der Englischen Littera- 

tur. Otto Rumbaur. Dissertation. Breslau. 

1890. Geschichte des Spanischen Nationaldramas, Adolf 
Schaeffer. 2 vols, i, pp. 101-102. Leipsic. 

1 89 1. A Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, 
F. G, Fleay. 2 vols. Webster, 11, 268-273. 

1892. Catalogue of the Pictures in the Gallery of 
Alleyn's College of God's Gift at Dulwich. The portrait 
printed as frontispiece to this edition is described, with a biograph- 
ical note, under No. 423, p. 118. 

1892. Studien zur Geschichte der Italienischen Novelle 
IN DER Englischen LiTTERATUR des SechzehntenJahrhunderts, 
Emil Koeppel, ^el/en und Forschungen, lxx, p. 90. Strassburg. 



J 



315ibltosrapl&^ 409 

1892. The Old Dramatists, James Russell Lowell, Web- 
ster, chap. III. Boston. 

1893. Webster, Lamb, and Swinburne, William Archer, 
Neiv Re-vieiv, viii, p. 96. 

1893. SpANISCHE QUELLEN DER DRAMATISCHEN LiTTERATUR, 

besonders Englands zu Shakespeares Zeit, Leo Bahlsen, 
Zeitschrift fiir -vergleichende Litteraturgeschichte^ Neue Folge, vi, 
pp. 1 51-159. Berlin- Weimar. 

1893. Metrische Untersuchungen ueber den Dramatiker 
John Webster, Martin Meiners. Dissertation. Halle. 

1893. Die Englischen Dramatiker vor, neben, und 
NACH Shakespeare, A. F. von Schack. Webster, pp. 139-182^ 
Stuttgart. 

1894. John Webster, Algernon Charles Swinburne, Studies 
in Prose and Poetry^ pp. 49—52. 

1 895. Die verschiedenen bearbeitungen der novellk 
VON der herzogin von Amalfi des Bandello in den litera- 
TUREN DES XVI UND XVII jahrhunderts, Karl Kiesow, An- 
glia^ XVII, pp. 199-258. Halle. 

1895. Quellen-Studien zu den Dramen Ben Jonson's, 
John Marston's und Beaumont's und Fletcher's, Emil Koep- 
pel, Munchener Beitrage. Webster, xi, p. 150. Leipsic. 

1896. English Drama, A Working Basis, Katherine Lee 
Bates and Lydia Boker Godfrey. Wellesley. 

1898. John Webster, Wolfgang von Wurzbach, Jahr- 
buck der deutschen Shakespeare-Geselhchaft^ xxxiv, pp. 9-5 1. 
Weimar. 

1899. John Websters Tragodie Appius and Virginia, 
Johannes Lauschke. Leipsic dissertation. Potsdam. 

1899. John Webster, Sidney Lee, Dictionary of National 
Biography^ LX, 120-124. 

1899. ViTTORiA Accoramboni, Margaret Maitland, Nine' 
teenth Century, January, p. 81. 

1899. Prologue to The Duchess of Malfy, Algernon 
Charles Swinburne, Nineteenth Century, January, p. 90. 

1900. Webster's 'White Devil,' W. W. Greg, Modern 
Language S^uarterly, iii, 2, pp. 112-125. 

1900. A List of English Plays, Written before 1643 



410 ilBibliograpl^^ 

AND Printed before 1700, W. W. Greg, Bibliographical So- 
ciety Publications. 

1902. ViTTORiA AccoRAMBONi, Countcss Evclyn Marti- 
nengo Cesaresco, Lombard Studies, pp. i 31-157. 

1902. A List of Masques, Pageants, &c., W. W. 
Greg, Bibliographical Society Publications. 

1902. Vittoria Accorambona in der Dichtung im Ver- 
HALTNis zu ihrer wahrer Geschichte, Marcus Landau, Eupho- 
rion, IX, pp. 310-316. Leipsic. 

1902. John Webster, Joseph Morris, Fortnightly Revieiv, 
June, p. 1065. 

1903. A History of English Poetry, W. J. Courthope. 
Webster, iv, pp. 256-266. 

1904. John Webster and Sir Philip Sidney, Charles Craw- 
ford, Notes and ^eries, Sept. 17 and ff. [Appeared too late to 
be used.] 

1904. Henslowe's Diary, edited by Walter W. Greg. 
Part I, the Text. [Appeared too late to be used.] 



dEflosisiat;^ 



acquaintance, knowledge. 

W. D. in, ii, 239. 
adamant, loadstone, magnet. 

fF. £>. I, ii, 193; IV, iii, 22; 

D. M. Ill, V, 53. 
anatomies, skeletons. D. M. 

V, ii, 81. 
angels, gold coins worth ten 

shillings. D. M. i, i, 282. 
apparently, clearly. D. M. 

II, i, 171. 
apprehend, be sensible of. 

D. M. IV, i, 14. 
approov'd, experienced. D.M. 

II, iv, II. 
arras, tapestry. TV. D. v, i, 

130; D. M. I, ii, 65. 
arras powder, orris-root 

powder {^prohably^, TV. D. 
V, iii, 125; D. M. Ill, ii, 60. 

atomies, atoms. TF. D. iv, 
ii, 42. 

attone, appease, reconcile. 
TV. D. Ill, ii, 296. atone- 
ment, reconciliation. D. M. 
IV, ii, 359. 

ayme, guess. D. M. i, ii, 1 32. 

ballass'd, ballasted. D. M. 

h i, 135- 
ballated, made ballads of. 
TV. D. Ill, ii, 248. 



band, collar. D. M. 11, i, 7. 
banes, banns. TV. D. 11, i, 

347- 

barriers, *a warlike exercise 
of men fighting with short 
Swords, and within some ap- 
pointed compasse ' ( Cocke- 
ram). TV. D. I, ii, 32; v, 
i, 58; V, ii, 85. 

beaver, visor. TV. D. v, ii, 
83; V, iii, 3. 

bedstaffe, a staff used to 
spread out the bed-clothes, or 
to keep them from falling. 
TV. D. V, i, 210. 

Bermoothes, Bermudas. 

D. M. Ill, ii, 271. 

bias, the shape of the bowl, or 
the weight in it, that causes it 
to roll obliquely ; the oblique 
motion itself. TV. D. i,ii, 73. 

biters, knaves. Cf ' Sheepe- 



biter 



D. M. V, 



349- 



blacke guard, scullions. 

TV. D. I, ii, 147; D. M. 

II, ii, 71. 
blasted, blighted. TV. D. i, 

ii, 300. 
bloud-shed, blood-shot. TV. D. 

II, i, 308. 
blouze, a beggar's wench. 

TV. D. V, vi, 3. 



412 



^lofiffifarp 



boone voyage, * bon voyage, ' 
W. D. II, ii, 41. 

braches, bitch-hounds. JV. D. 
V, vi, 134. 

brave, threaten. W. D. iv, 
ii, 51. 

brees, gadflies. W. D. i, ii, 
182. 

buntings, birds somewhat re- 
sembling larks. D. M. in, v, 

5- 
buttery-hatch, door of the 
wine-cellar or pantry. fV. D. 
I, ii, 25. 

cantarides, Spanish fly. 
TV. D. II, i, 281. 

Caroach, coach. Cf. Fr. car- 
rosse. W. D.\, ii, 8 ; D. M. 
I, i, 2425 IV, ii, 1 10. 'A 
coach for country and caroch 
for London.' — Greene" i Tu 
^oque. 

carreening, turning a boat on 
its side for repairs. D. M. ii," 
i, 40. 

carreere, * to run your Horse 
forthright at his full speed, and 
then making him stop quickely, 
sodainely, firme and close 
on his buttocke ' [Markham, 
Countrey Contentments^ i 6 1 5 ) . 
fr. D. ^iv, iv, 94 ; V, V, 

15- 
carved, gelded. fV. D. i, ii, 

142. 
case, pair. W. D. v, vi, 18 ; 

cover. D. M. i, i, 228. 



cassia, a kind of cinnamon. 

fr. D. II, i, 165. 
censur'd, judged. fT'. D. v, 

iii, 210. censure, think. 

D. M. Ill, i, 27. 
center, the part of the target 

next to the bull's-eye. fV. D. 

V, vi, 192. 
character, trait. D. M. i, 

i, 253; summing up of traits. 

fr. D. Ill, ii, 79 5 secret 

symbol, fr. D. iv, iii, 2, 
chargeable, costly. D. M. 

I, ii, 41. 

cheit [cheat), eschczit. D. M. 

V, i, 6. 
chippings, crusts of bread. 

D. M. Ill, ii, 229. 
choake peare, a bitter pear ; 

something that cannot be 

answered, or * swallowed. * 

fr. D. Ill, ii, 233. 
chullice. Cf culUs. 
cipres, crape, fr. D. iii, i, 

83. 

civilitie, civilization, fr. D. 
I, ii, 226. 

civill, seemly. D. M. v, ii, 
63. 

codpeece, an appendage to the 
front of the tight hose worn 
by men in the sixteenth cen- 
tury, fr. D. V, iii, 107 J 
D. M. II, ii, 43. 

COlledge, the College of Physi- 
cians. D. M. IV, ii, 118. 

commeddled, mixed. fT. 
D. III. iii, 45. 



^Io00arr 



413 



complementall, courteous, 

accomplished. D. M. i, i, 295. 

conceit, fancy. D. M. i, ii, 
198; opinion. D. M. 11, 
iii, 35; vanity, conception of 
children [perhaps). W. D. 
V, vi, 225. 

COnfederacie, perhaps here 
conspiracy. fV. D. iii, iii, 41. 

consort, company of musicians. 
D. M. IV, ii, I. 

consumption, a consuming 
desire. W. D. i, ii, 52. 

convertites, converts. fV. D. 
in, ii, 263. 

conveyance, artifice. PF. D. 
IV, ii, 24. 

convince, vanquish. PF. D. 
IV, ii, 38. 

COnyes (^conies), rabbits, sim- 
pletons, conycatch, to 
swindle. Pf^. D. in, i, 28. 

COrazive (^corrosi-ve) , a caus- 
tic drug or plaster. D. M. 
IV, ii, 99. 

cornucopia, jigurat'fvely here 
for cuckoldom. W. D. 11, i, 
360. 

coulourable, false, Tf^. D. 

II, i, 297. 
COUmpterS {counters), metal 

disks used in calculations. 

D. M. Ill, iii, 73. 
crab, crab-apple. D. M. 11, i, 

168. 
crackers, fire-crackers. TF.D. 

", h 73- 
crOTvnes, Italian coins worth 



about five shillings. fV. D. 

IV, iv, 136. 
crusado's, Portuguese coins, 

stamped with a cross [-value 
about half a dollar). W. D. 
Ill, ii, 215, 
Cullis, a strong broth. W. D. 

V, iv, 33 ; D. M. II, iv, 66 j 
II, V, 71 ; V, ii, 80. 

cultures [coulters), plough- 
shares. D. M. Ill, i, 57. 

cupping-glasses, glass cups 
used in blood-letting. JV. D. 
V, vi, loi ; D. M. II, V, 25. 

curst, ill-tempered. TV. D. i, 
ii, 226. 

curtaines, veils. D. M. in, 
ii, 159. 

curtail, a curtailed horse or 
dog. JV. D. II, ii, 14. 

cut-works, open-work em- 
broidery, much in -vogue among 
Elizabethan gallants. * An 
ordinarie band wth. the double 
cuffes costs five or seven 
pound, and some much more. ' 
[State Papers, Dom. i Aug. 
1613.) W. D. I, i, 51. 

declarations, complaints 

legally drawn up. W. D. iv, 
i, 91. 

disembogue, empty. Pro- 
perly ofari-ver, herefgurati-ve. 
D. M. II, i, 41. 

diversivolent, contentious. 
W. D. Ill, ii, a8 j m, Hi, 
27. 



414 



^lo00ar^ 



divinity, theology. D. M. i, 

i, 43- 
doctrine, information. ?F.D. 

IV, i, 64. 
dog-fish, a species of shark. 

D. M. in, V, 124. 
dogge dayes, evil times. 

D. M. I, i, 41 } W. D. V, i, 

153- 

doom'd, decreed. W. D. 11, 
i, 196. 

dottrels, plovers, foolish per- 
sons. W. D. v, iv, 8. 

duckets [ducats), continental 
gold coins of the value of nine 
or ten shillings. TV, D. in, 
ii, 220 ; IV, iv, 132 ; D. M. 
n, ii, 59. 

electuaries 'bee medicinable 
compositions or confections to 
be taken inwardly, made of 
choise drougs, either to purge 
the humors, to strengthen the 
principall parts, or to withstand 
any infirmitie for which they 
are made. The substance is 
betweene a syrrup and a con- 
serve, but more enclining to 
the consistence of conserves.' 
( Holland's Pliny y 1 60 1 ) . 
fF. D. I, ii, 105. 

embleme, an allegorical pic- 
ture. fV. D. II, i, 325. 

engenous, of an engine. 

D.M. Ill, ii, 177. engine, 
instrument, purpose. fF. D. 11, 
i, 3185 II, ii, 46} IV, i, 130; 



V, vi, 1 22 J D. M. V, y, 
38. 

ephemerides, calendars. Cf. 

note, p. 187. W. D. I, ii, 76. 
equall, equable. £>. M. V, ii, 

288. 
essentiall, actual. fF. D. m, 

», 75- 
ever, always. D. Af. I, i, 35. 

falling sicknesse, epilepsy. 
TV. D. V, vi, 230. 

fals, comes to be. W. D. 11, 
i, 132. 

familiar, evil spirit. D. M. 
V, ii, 173; intimate friend. 
fV. D. V, iv, 146. 

fantasticall [phantasticall). 
Cf. D, M. Ill, iii, 40, note, 
p. 396. 

farthingalls, hoops to dis- 
tend skirts, iv. D. 11, i, 169. 

fell, cruel. D. M. i, ii, 273. 

fellie, felloe. JV. D. iii, iii, 
103. 

figure, image, mould. D. M. 
I, i, 210; V, iii, 55. 

figure-flingers, those who 
cast horoscopes. PV. D. 11, ii, 
16. 

fins, some part of the eyelid. 
D. M. II, i, 79. 

fitted, managed. TV. D. 11, i, 8. 

flashes, empty accomplish- 
ments. D. M. I, i, 175. 

flaw, a sudden storm ; also, a 
breach. Here a double-enten- 
dre. W. D. I, ii, 65, 66. 



^losffiiar^ 



415 



flead, flayed. D. M. 11, i, 

35- 
flye-boate, a small swift 

boat Cf. Fr. mouche. W. D. 
n, i, 187. 
fond, foolish. fV. D. IV, iv, 

55- 
foot cloath, the housing or 
trappings of a horse. W. D. 
I, ii, 58; III, ii, 1775 D.M. 

", «, 55- 
footsteps, steps, rungs. D.M. 

I, ii, 51. 

force, necessity. Tf^. D. in, ii, 

134- 

fox, sword. W. D. V, vi, 236. 

fraight, fraught. D. M. V, i, 
69. 

'fum'd, perfumed [poisoned). 
W. D. V, iii, 252. 

furnish out, complete, TV. 
D. V, i, 55. 

fustian, cotton cloth ; bom- 
bast. fF. D. II, ii, 20 ; III, 
ii, 46. 

galliard, a lively dance. D. 
M. I, i, 217 5 a combination 
of gallop and lacking out 
{ring-galliard) y or of curvet 
and bound [gallop-ga/Iiard). 
TV. D. IV, iv, 95. 

gallouses (galloivs), gallows- 
birds. TV. D. II, i, 322. 

gargarisme, gargle. TV. D. 

II, i, 311. 

gennit, jennet : according to 
Markham ( Countrey Content- 



ments) the best horse for nuar, 

2). ikf. I, i, 1 3 1 . 
ghossips [gossips) y god- 
parents. D. M. HI, ii, 68. 
good cheape, at a low cost. 

Cf. Fr. bon marche. TV. D. 

V, iii, 192. 
gordian, knot. D. M. i, ii, 

184. 
government, behavior. TV.D. 

V, i, 86. 
graduatically, appropriately 

as a graduate. TV. D. iii, ii, 

49. 
graine, scarlet dye ; in 

graine, fast dyed, hence , in- 
eradicable. D. M. IV. ii, 55. 
graz'd (grassed) y lost in the 

grass. TV. D. v, ii, 72. 
grotes [groats), silver coins 

of the value of fourpence. 

TV. D. IV, iii, 93. 
guarded, embroidered. D. M. 

Ill, iii, 32. 
gudgions, [gudgeons,) small 

fish, persons easily tricked. 

TV. D. Ill, iii, 29. 
gue, rogue? [Fr. gueux). 

TV. D. Ill, iii, 99. 

habite, demeanor, disposition, 

TV. D. II, i, 136. 
haggard, a full-grown hawk 

caught wild, and difficult to 

reclaim ; an immoral woman. 

TV. D. V, i, 207. 
happely, haply. TV. D. 11, i, 

SJi D. M.v, ii, 146. 



4i6 



^losfflfar^ 



hazard, a dicing game, * craps.' 
W. D. I, ii, 36; the side 
of the tennis-court into which 
the ball is served. TV. D. 
v> Jj 7^ ^figurati've use). 

hemlocke, ^ere in the sense of 
poison. PT. D. 11, i, 59. 

holly-bread. Cf. note W. D. 

V, vi, 142, p. 205. 

honest, virtuous. JV. D. n, i, 
233 ; io honesty, D. M. n, 
iv, 78. 

horse -lech {-leech), a large 
leech, a horse doctor, a per- 
sistent beggar. W. D. iii, ii, 
280 ; V, vi, 167. 

huddle, heap. PV. D. iii, iii, 
83. 

humour, one of the four fluids 
of the body, — blood, phlegm, 
bile, black jbile, — which, ac- 
cording to the old physiology, 
dominated the nature of a 
man, making him sanguine, 
phlegmatic, choleric, or mel- 
ancholy, respectively; temper- 
ament ; marked personal char- 
acteristic; eccentricity of be- 
havior; inclination. W. D. 
II, i, 374. 

husbands, housekeepers. 

D. M. I, ii, 74. 

idleness, delirium, raving. 

TV. D. IV, i, 108. 
imbrodered [embroidered), 

probably decorated. W. D. 

V, iii, 168. 



impostume, abscess, gathering. 
fV. D. IV, iii, 77 ; D. M. 
iv,ii, 43. 

information, informer's evi- 
dence. D. M. I, i, 197. 

ingenious, ingenuous. D. M. 
I, ii, 63; so ingeniously, 
fV. D. Ill, iii, 79. 

intelligence, information re- 
ceived through spies [intelli- 
gencers) . TV. D. IV, i, 30 J 
IV, iv, i38;D. M.i,i, 244J 
IV, i, 129. 

Jacobs staffe, a rod used in 
taking altitudes. W. D. I, 
ii, 102. 

jealous, watchful. TV. D. iv, 

i, 39- 
Julio, an Italian coin ['value, 

sixpence ). TV. D. in, ii, 

240. 
jump with, come close to. 

TV. D. 1, ii, 74. 

kissing-comfits, perfumed 
sweetmeats for sweetening the 



leaguer, camp. Ger. lager. 

D. M. I, i, 241 ; in, iii, 14. 
leam [lyam), leash. TV. D. 

I, ii, 88. 
leash, three. TV. D. iv, i, 88. 
leiger [lieger), ledger, /. e. 

resident. TV. D. in, i, 2 j 

III, ii, 131. 
lenative [lenitive), soothing, 



€ilo0flfar^ 



417 



but here seemingly insidious. 

D. M. Ill, i, 75. 
levoret (^leveret), a young 

hare. D. M. v, v, 51. 
libell, draw up a document ? 

D. M. II, iii, 41. 
licanthropia {lycanthropy). 

D. M. V, ii, 6. Cf. notey p. 

. 399- 
lists, narrow strips of cloth, 

selvage edges. PP^. D. v, vi, 

108. 
literated, learned. TF. D. 

in, ii, 26. 
lur'd. Cf. fF. D. IV, i, 132, 

note, p. 195. D. M. i, i, 

250. 
luxurious, lustful. D. M. i, 

ii, 6. 

maine, great. D. M. v, i, 
44 ; chief part. D. M. v, v, 

93- 

matachine, a comic sword- 
dance. W. D. V, vi, 170. 

mediate, take a middle course. 
TV. D. I, i, 34. 

meere, pure. fV. D. 11, i, 
249. 

mellancholly, brooding over 
wrongs, because of the pre- 
ponderance of the melan- 
choly humor. D. M. I, i, 83. 

meteor, an atmospheric phe- 
nomenon, an exhalation. 
?F. D. I, i, 25. 

Michaelmas, 29 September. 
}f^. D. V, i, 239. 



misprision, mistake. D. M. 
V, iv, 87. 

mistris, the object-ball in 
bowls. Cf. Troilus and Cres- 
sida, II, ii,^ 52. PF. D. i, 
ii, 74. 

moderators, judges, ff^. D. 
Ill, ii, 227. 

moile, mule. W. D. in, ii, 
178. 

morphew'd. ' . . that kynde 
of scurfe, why c he of the La- 
tyns is called vitiligo, we call 
it the Morphewe .... there 
is agglutination, but there lack- 
eth assimilation.' Christopher 
Langton"" s Introduction to Phi- 
sycke [ca. i^^o) fol. I-v. D. 
M. II, i, 41. 

mother, hysteria. D. M. 11, 
i, 136. 

motion, puppet-show ; propo- 
sal, idea. W. D. v, i, 251. 
D. M. I, ii, 12; III, ii, 40. 

mowldes {moulds), forms. 
D. M. II, ii, 49. 

mummia, a drug used * as well 
in outwarde plasters, as in- 
warde drinkes, to compounde 
broken bones and veynes, and 
to dissolve congeiled bloud ' 
(John Halle, Lanfrancus' Chi- 
rurgia parnia, 1565). Used 
also as a purge. ' Some say 
it is made of mans flesh boild 
in pitch ; Others, that it is 
taken out of old Tombes, be- 
ing a corrupted humour that 



4i8 



^lo00ar^ 



droppeth from embalmed 
bodies* (Cockeram, English 
Dictionaries 1626). W. D. 
I, i, 16 ; D. M. IV, ii, 128, 
[here mummey). 
mutton, a lewd woman (cant). 
W. D. I, ii, 103. 

nice, fastidious. D. M. v, ii, 

172. 
night-caps. Cf. D. M. 11, 

i, 27, note, p. 390. 
night gowne, dressing-gown. 
fF. D. II, ii, 54. 

oretane, got the better of. 

JV. D. IV, iv, no. 
ow'de, owned. D. M. iv, i, 

49- 

parde, pared. D. M. 11, i, 

157. 
passionately, sorrowfully. 

TV. D. V, iii, 226. 
patent, license [ivhich ivas 

often a monopoly). W. D. v, 

i, 117; V, vi, 14. 
peevish, perverse, foolish. 

D. M. Ill, ii, 25. 
pention [pension), board and 

lodging, living expenses. 

TV. D. II, i, 385; III, iii, 70; 

V, i, 49. 144; V, vi, 174} 

D. M. Ill, i, 89. 
percels, parcels. W. D. i, i, 

5- 
perspective, perspective- 

glass. D. M. IV, ii, 74. 



Cf. TV. D. I, ii, III, note^ 
p. 187. 
pew Tvew. Pooh. TV. D. 

I, ii, 78. 
phantasticall. (fantasticall). 

Cf. D. M. Ill, iii, 40, note, 
p. 396 ; D. M. IV, ii, 129, 
160. 
phisicall, medicinal. D. M. 

II, iv, 65. 

picture, image. D. M. iv, 
i, 62. 

pitty, lamentation. TV. D. 11, 
i, 397 ; D. M. IV, ii, 262 ; v, 
iv, 57. lament. TV. D. iv, 
ii, 26. 

points, short strings with metal 
tags at the ends, used for 
fastening clothes. TV. D. v, 
vi; 105. 

polititian, one versed in affairs 
of state [not usually in the 
modern derogatory sense ) j alsOy 
one who follows policy rather 
than principle. TV. D. i, ii, 
56 ; II, iii, 19, 117; D. M. 

III, ii, 328. 

Pollake, Polander. TV. D. 

II, i, 183. 
pollitique, crafty. TV. D. 

IV, ii, 71. 

possets, made of hot milk 
curdled by the addition of wine 
or other liquor. D. M. iv, 
ii, 117. 

post, haste. TV. D. 11, i, 
271. 

posterne, a small back door. 



^Io0s?ar^ 



419 



W. D. II, ii, 51 ; D. M. 

II, ii, 32. 

pot-gun, mortar, pop-gun. 

D. M. Ill, iii, 29. 
poulter, poulterer. W. D. 

III, i, 80. 

prefixt, pre-arranged. TV. D. 

II, ii, 2. 
presence, presence-chamber. 

fV. £>. V, i, 64; V, iv, 38 5 

D. M. I, i, 90 ; II, i, 139. 
presently,immediately. fV.D. 

II, ii, 30 ; D. M. II, 32, 

35-. 
pretious, precious blood. 

fV. D. IV, iii, 4. 
prevent, anticipate. fV. D. 

IV, ii, 46. 

processe, full explanation. 
D. M. V, iv, 75. 

progresse, a royal journey 
of state. fV. D. i, ii, 198 j 
D. M. II, i, 33 ; III, ii, 316. 
As •verby D. M. i, ii, 144. 

property, an article used on 
the stage. W. D. 11, i, 
287. Appropriate thing to do. 
D. M. IV, i, 64. 

prove, test. fV. D. v, vi, 
150. 

provisorship, the office of 
purveyor. D. M. i, i, 237. 

publicke, notorious, bare- 
faced. W. D. Ill, i, 22. 

purboil'd [parboiled), boiled 
through and through [not the 
present meaning of partly 
boiled, which is etymo logically 



incorrect). W. D. v, vi, 
142. 

purchase, wealth, usually ill- 
gotten, as through receiving 
stolen goods. D. M. in, i, 
28. 

put off, to dispose of [often 
fraudulently). W. D. iv, i, 

quackesalving, humbug- 
ging. TV. D. II, i, 290. 

quaintly, ingeniously. TV. D. 
II, ii, 38. 

quality, occupation [here the 
actor'' s). TV. D. Epilogue, 3. 

quat [squat), the hare's sit- 
ting posture. TV. D. iv, iii, 
90. 

quicke, live. TV. D. iv, i, 
102. 

quickning, growing into life. 
D. M. I, ii, 187. 

quite, requite. TV. D. i, i, 7. 

quits, frees. D. M. i, i, 7. 

quoit, throw. D. M. II, V, 43. 

radicall, going to the root of 

the matter. D. M. 11, iii, 22. 
ranger, guardian of the deer 

in a forest. TV. D. 11, i, 366. 
reame, realm. TV. D. 11, ii, 

16. 
reclaimed, drawn back by a 

cord [falconry). TV. D. iv, 

iii, II. 
reportage, reporting. TV. D. 

IV, i, 56. 



420 



^lo0fifar^ 



resolved, satisfied, answered. 

W. D. ni, ii, 68. 
restie, restive. fV. D. iv, iv, 

93- 
reversion, inheritance. D. M. 

IV, ii, 2o8. 

right, just, precisely. W. D. 

", i, 374; D. M. Ill, V, 9. 
rose, rosette. W. D. v, iii, 

III. 
rupture, outbreak. D. M. 11, 

V, 56. 

sacrament, oath, obligation. 

JV. D. IV, iv, 72 J D. M. 

IV, i, 38. 
sadnes, seriousness. D. M. v, 

iv, 67. 
saffron, a medicine. Cf. note, 

p. 203. W. D. V, iii, 205. 
Saint Anthony fire, erysip- 
elas. fF. D. II, i, 305. 
sallet, salad, jr. D. iv, ii, 

62 ; V, iii, 167. 
salvatory, a receptacle to pre- 
serve things in. D. M. iv, 

ii, 128. 
sanctuary, place of safety. 

D. M. I, ii, 167. 
sault, leaping or prancing 

{^horsemanship^. TV. D. iv, 

iv, 95. 
scores, runs up a bill (score). 

W. D. V, iii, 197. 
scruples, the twenty-four 

parts of an ounce {fig-^- 

W. D. V, vi, 112. 
SCrutinie, balloting, a method 



of choosing a Pope. Cf. note^ 
p. 198. JV. D. IV, iv, 37. 

scuttles, quick steps. D. M. 
Ill, ii, 251. 

sennet, a trumpet call, not a 
flourish. fF. D. i, ii, stage 
direction. 

shadow, image. TF. D. 11, 
ii, 28. 

shamoyes, clothes or shoes 
made of chamois. W. D. iii, 
i, 52. 

sheepe-biter, a sheep-worry- 
ing dog, a back-biter. Here 
ivith a hint of the lycanthro- 
pic delusion. Cf. ' Biters.* 
{D. M. V, ii, 349.) D. M. 

V, ii, 55- 
simplicity, foolishness. D.M. 

", i, 93- 

simply, without subtlety, fool- 
ishly. D. M. II, i, 95. 

smoore, smother. W. D. V, 

iv, 55- 
smoother [smother), smoke. 

D. M. V, ii, 317. 
SOphisticke, deceptive [as 

sleight of hand). fV. D. 11, 

ii, 7. 
sort, company. D. M. in, ii, 

241. 
springe, noose, snare. TV. D. 

V, vi, 132. 
spring-hall {springal), a 

young fellow. D. M. 11, i, 

172. 
squib, a small fire-work. 

W. D. II, ii, 13. 



€>lofif0ar^ 



421 



standings, standing-places or 
stands. W. D. v, i, 59. 

Stewes, brothel. W. D. V, 
i, 207. 

stibium, antimony. TF. D. 
11, i, 281 ; V, vi, 57. 

Stigmaticke, branded, dis- 
graceful. W. D. Ill, iii, 76. 

still, continually. D. M. i, ii, 
187 ; V, ii, 248. 

stomacke, liking. TF. D. 

II, i, 270. D. M. Ti, i, 20. 
strappado 'd, lifted by a rope, 

then suddenly dropped and 
checked before reaching the 
ground, so that the part to 
which the rope was tied [e. 
g. the hands) would be vio- 
lently jerked. W. D. in, iii, 
103. 

superficies, surface. W. D. 
I, ii, 19. 

Switzers, mercenary soldiers. 
TV. D. II, i, 61 ; Cf. notCy p. 
189. 

swope, swoop. W. D. I, i, 6. 

taffeta, thin soft silk. TF. D. 

III, iii, 89. 

tarras, terrace. W. D. IV, 

iv, stage direction^ p. 1 13. 
tedious, irritating. D. M. 11, 

h 133- 
tend, attend, wait. W. D. i, 

i, 29. 
tent, probe. W. D. v, vi, 

^39- 
tents, rolls * of lint, made of 



soft linen cloth enfused in 
oile of Roses warme for sim- 
ple wounds.' HalWz tr. of 
Lanfrancus" Chirurgia par-va^ 
1565, p. 4. Z). ikf. i,i, 124. 

throughly, thoroughly. D.M. 
V, ii, 87. 

tows'd, (toused,) rumpled. 
PF, D. IV, iii, 85. 

to yeare, this year. JD. M. 
II, i, 150. 

tragedy, tragic story. D. M. 
IV, ii, 8. 

transportation, exportation. 
D. M. IV, ii, 56. 

travers[e], a curtain, espe- 
cially one concealing the inner 
stage. fV. D. v, iv, 71 j 
D. M. IV, i, stage direction. 

triumph, revel, public festival 
or spectacle. PF. D. 11, i, 
82 5 D. M. I, ii, 73. 

tumultuary, promiscuous. 
fF. D. I, ii, 192. 

turtles, turtle-doves. fF. D. 
I, ii, 174. 

uds' death, God's (Christ's) 
death. fF. D. iii, iii, 136J 
v, iii, I, 213. 

ud's foot, God's foot. PF. D. 
IV, ii, 19. 

uncivill, of unsettled govern- 
ment. fF. D. in, ii, 128. 

unction, salve. W. D.Vy iii, 
28. 

unvalu'd, invaluable. D. M. 
in, ii, 252. 



422 



€>lo00ar^ 



use, interest. W. D. iii, ii, 

222. 

uttered, issued, sold. fV. D. 
I, ii, 105. 

vaunt - guard, yan-guard. 
D. M. V, V, 54. 

when, an impatient ejaculation. 

D. M. II, i, 133 ; IV, ii, 59. 
whipt, edged. fV. D. v, iii, 

121. 
whistler, the plover. D. M. 

IV, ii, 185. 
wind, follow on the scent of. 

W. D. Ill, iii, 67. 



wit, natural intelligence as con- 
trasted with learning. D. M. 
in, V, 67. 

witty, ingenious. D. M. 11, 
iii, 79 ; 11, iv, 5. 

Wolfe, lupus, ulcer. TF. D. 
V, iii, 59 ; D. M. II, i, 68. 

woman - keeper, nurse. 
fV. D. V, iii, 184. 

word, motto. W. D. II, i, 329. 

worme-seede, a drug [san- 

tonica) used as a vermifuge. 
D. M. IV, ii, 127. 
wrinckle, trick, device [So 
in Euphues). D. M. i, i, 
152. 



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